The Princess Bride
by myformofimagination
Summary: As the Enchanted Forest teeters on the verge of war, the reluctant Princess Emma is devastated by the loss of her true love, kidnapped by a mercenary & his henchmen, rescued by a pirate, forced to marry a prince, & rescued once again by the very crew who took her. Foiling their plans & jumping into their story is Killian, Emma's true love and a good friend to a dangerous pirate.
1. Chapter 1: The Bride

**Disclaimer: This is The Princess Bride as Captain Swan. I do not own Once Upon a Time, their characters, William Goldman's words, his story, or his characters. I have simply taken his plot and story line and twisted it into my own. This is based moreso on the book than the movie, but they're basically the same anyway. There are a few lines that come straight out of the book (because they're so beautiful and perfect that I can't force myself to reword them). Also, Cora and Regina have no relation. My cover photo is simply the movie cover, which I also do not own. I hope you enjoy!**

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Once upon a time in an enchanted world there lived a peaceful kingdom ruled by the kind and benevolent Snow White and David Charming. Snow was truly the fairest in all the land and the love between the King and Queen were legendary.

After one long and strenuous night, Snow gave birth to the kingdom's new heir: Princess Emma Swan Charming.

Six years later, the princess had already begun to grow into a beautiful child. Through her mother's guidance, she became kind to all creatures, forgiving, strong, humble, graceful, and skilled in archery. Through her father's guidance, she became brave, honorable, sensitive, noble, loving, and skilled in sword fighting. But Emma only found true joy when she was doing one of two things: riding her beloved horse or teasing the young stable boy.

Emma's horse was named Buttercup, a beautiful blonde pony that had stuck by Emma's side since their first ride together. The horse was hers, and she was the horse's. Emma would find any excuse to go out and spend time with her beloved creature.

Emma's stable boy was named Killian, an adorable orphan who was found abandoned on one of the King's Navy ships when he was just a baby. The King and Queen gave him refuge in their kingdom. He was four years older than Emma. He was shy and quiet, usually kept to himself or his work. That is, until Emma came around. Even as a baby, she was very interested in the other kid who roamed within the kingdom walls. But Killian always took the time to play with the princess; in fact, the only time he would truly smile was in her company. Still, his words were limited. As they got older, Emma began to get frustrated with his lack of speech. When she would be down at the stables taking care of Buttercup, she would go on and on about her life, her day, her parents, her friends, she would even make up tales. Just to get the boy to engage in conversation. But Killian would only nod or shake his head as he listened to her stories. She began to realize that the only time he would actually speak to her was when she would give him a command or ask him for something. And his reply would always be the same: "As you wish."

As Emma grew older, her beauty only grew. By thirteen, she was already the second most beautiful woman in all the land, after her mother.

But Emma didn't notice; she didn't care. She had grown much more interested in sword fighting over curtseying, archery over studies, and riding her horse over dancing. Anything that got her outside of the castle was where she desired to be. Everyday she would walk into the castle, a trail of dirt following her from all of her outdoor adventures.

"Emma Swan!" he mother would berate, "Get upstairs right this instant and have Johanna give you a bath and get this mud out of your hair! If you keep rolling around in the dirt like that, people will start to mistake your gold hair for brown."

"I've been riding all day!" Emma would reply, trying to squirm her way out of her mother's critical eye.

Snow would only shake her head, trying hard not to smile at her stubborn daughter. "Your suitors aren't going to like a princess who smells of stables."

To this Emma would always scoff and make a face, "Oh, the suitors! I do not care about _the suitors_. Buttercup loves me and that is quite sufficient, thank you."

She said that speech loud, and she said it often.

Soon after her sixteenth birthday, Emma began to notice something strange happen within the kingdom. The girls that she had grown up with both within the castle and in town wouldn't play with her anymore. They would only acknowledge her whenever she was either with her parents or she approached them first. And even when they did speak to her, it was always formal with a hint of venom in their tone.

Finally, when she couldn't take being ignored any longer, she cornered her best friend Alexandra one morning and asked about the silence.

"After what you've done, I should think you'd have the courtesy not to pretend to ask!" she had replied with a roll of her eyes.

Emma rose her eye brow, "And what exactly have I done?"

"What? _What? _YOU'VE STOLEN THEM!" she yelled before storming off in the opposite direction.

Emma didn't understand who 'them' were. She looked around the square and noticed a few eyes on her. Being the princess, this wasn't extremely uncommon. But she noticed that most of the eyes this afternoon belonged to a few of the townspeople's sons. That's when she understood.

The boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattleskulled clod-pated dim-domed noddle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed _boys_.

She recalled the unusual attention she had been getting from them lately. They would ask if they could brush her horse, go riding with her, take her fishing, practice her sword play, go for walks, or bring her flowers. She had always been kind in explaining her appreciation, but she always turned them down.

"My stable boy does that." "I really enjoy riding by myself." "My stable boy does that." "My stable boy does that." "I really enjoy walking by myself." "My stable boy already brought me flowers."

Soon, the boys began to tease her, despite her royal status. They would insist that she thought she was too pretty for them, that she thought she was too good. Sometimes she couldn't even walk outside the castle walls without a group of boys teasing her and laughing at her. Without hesitation, Killian would always mysteriously run to Emma's side and pull her away from the gang of boys. It only took one boy who would continue to harass Emma for Killian to show his strength, leaving the poor boy with a broken nose and black eye. After that, just Killian's presence was enough to scare off the boys.

Emma never failed to thank him whenever he would save her from the harsh words of the village boys. And each time, he would answer with "As you wish."

She began to spend more of her time within the castle grounds. Through this confusing time, Killian became her only friend. She found comfort in his silence and patience, though she desperately would try to get him to speak.

One afternoon, a neighboring kingdom whom Snow and Charming had formed a truce with paid a visit to their kingdom for dinner. The king and queen were an older couple who had never produced an heir, but the queen had always given Emma the creeps.

"King Henry and Queen Cora!" Snow greeted as they were escorted into the main hall of the castle. "Welcome back! It is wonderful to see you again."

"Hello sweet Snow," Cora smiled, though Emma couldn't help but squirm in her place as she watched. "And the beautiful Princess Emma," she said as she took a few steps towards her. Emma had just come in from riding, so she hadn't bathed yet. "Though, from the looks of you, I'd mistake you for a stable girl instead of a princess."

"We have a stable boy," Emma expressed with a shrug, "he probably smells worse than I do."

"I apologize for my daughter," Charming announced. "She enjoys her outdoor activities just as much as I did when I was a young boy."

Cora smiled, "Yes, but you were a shepherd boy."

"Dear Snow, we would love a quick tour of the castle," Henry interrupted in an attempt to change the conversation. "It's been so long since we've come for a visit."

Snow smiled and nodded as she began to lead the way around the castle. As Emma followed the pack, she began to wish in times like this that she weren't a princess. She knew that the pressures were soon going to fall upon her to find a proper husband, preferably a prince in which they will be able to join the two kingdoms, and she would have to begin learning how to run a kingdom like a proper queen. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to find some far off adventure.

It was when they walked out to the field that Emma began to pay more attention. She noticed Cora cringed at the horses behind the fence. Her gaze then turned to the stables, where she noticed a figure working within it.

"Is that the stable boy?" she asked. Emma nodded. "Let me meet him. Stable boy!" she called out to get his attention. He looked up and began to walk over to the group of people.

"Oh, he's not dressed proper for an introduction," Snow tried to say, noticing that he was only dressed in a pair of breeches. Obviously whatever work he'd been doing had caused him to lose his shirt, probably because of the heat. He was sweaty and dirty, his hair was messy. He kept his head down and his hand clung to his arm in an attempt to shield himself.

Cora scoffed, "I've seen bare chests before." He stopped when he stood in front of the group, all eyes on him. "Have you a name, stable boy?"

"Killian, your highness," he replied in a soft voice, head still bowed down.

Cora inspected him closely, Emma noticed. "Show me the stables. I'm very interested in how you feed the horses."

"You want me to feed the horses for you, your highness?" Killian asked.

Cora nodded, "Bright lad. Now shall be fine. I've been told we have some time before dinner is ready."

Cora offered her arm to Killian, and he had no choice but to take it. He sent one final look towards Emma before he began to walk her to the stables as everyone followed.

They walked into the stables and Killian began to pull out the heavy bag of feed. Emma ran to his side, "Here, let me help you."

"If you wouldn't mind, dear, I'd prefer to see the stable boy perform the stable chores. If I wanted to watch the princess do farm boy work… well, that would be crazy."

Emma backed off, but felt uneasy with the way that Cora kept looking at Killian. He kept his bright blue eyes on the feed and the horses as he took the time to pour the bag of food for each of the horses. His sweaty muscles would flex when he would do so, something Emma noticed Cora noticing.

At dinner, Cora had spoken fondly of Killian throughout the meal, stating how much she wished they had a stable boy who tended to their horses like he did. Emma got the impression that Cora was trying to get her parents to offer Killian to her – a thought that immediately made Emma sick.

When they left, Emma got ready for bed. After a quick bath, Johanna insisted on combing Emma's long blonde curls. But she only got through a few strokes before Emma bolted out of the room and down the halls. She didn't care if she were only in her night dress, she was angry.

When she got to the stables, Killian was reading by candlelight. Emma noticed the book was one about sailing. He noticed her presence and jumped up to attention.

"Stable boy," she commanded. "I have some problems with Buttercup. She needs to be cleaned, her hoofs varnished, her ears massaged, and her tail plaited. By tonight. You hear me? _Tonight_."

Killian simply nodded, "As you wish."

Emma stormed back into the castle. She wasn't thinking straight. She'd never been that rude to Killian before.

As she laid in bed a few minutes later, she couldn't stop thinking about the way that Cora had looked at Killian. About how she wanted to take him from them. From her. Why would she want him anyway? What could she _possibly _want with _her _Killian?

She obviously saw something in the stable boy. But what? He had eyes like the sea on a bright, beautiful day – but who cared about eyes? His hair was as black as the coal used to light the flames in the fireplace – if you liked that sort of thing. He was broad in the shoulders, a physique King Henry certainly lacked in his age. He was certainly muscular and tan, but who wouldn't be after years of working in a field in the sun? He was taller and his stomach was certainly flatter than King Henry's. And, with his age, the stable boy had grown an interesting stubble of hair around his mouth and jaw, but who cared about a litter of hairs?

Emma sat up in bed. It must be his teeth. The stable boy had very good, bright teeth.

She shook her head. Could it be anything else? She had noticed that a lot of the village girls would follow Killian around when he would go into the market, and Alexandra had always swooned whenever they would visit him in the stables. But he always ignored the girls and never spoke to them, so they couldn't ever really catch a glimpse of his teeth.

Though it was strange that someone with such prestige as the Queen would be so wrapped up on teeth that way. She shrugged and decided to close her eyes to get to sleep.

_People don't look at people the way Cora looked at the stable boy because of their teeth. _

"Oh, dear," Emma groaned. Now the stable boy was looking at Cora! Emma was watching as Killian fed the horses with his rippling arms in his tan skin and his bright eyes as he _looked _at Cora. How could he?

Emma sprung out of bed and began to pace.

"But she's so _old_." "And she's _married_." "She's not even all that pretty."

Emma did this for most of the night as she went from tossing and turning in her bed to pacing on the floor. She couldn't get the image out of her mind and she couldn't understand it.

She found her feet walking her out of her room and down the stairs. It was almost dawn, the sky was beginning to brighten when she made her way to the part of the castle she knew his quarters to be. She knew it was incredibly inappropriate to enter a man's quarters unchaperoned, but she didn't care.

She didn't knock, she was on a mission and her adrenaline was feeding her heart beat as it began to race. When she opened the door, Killian was sitting in his bed with a sheet up to his waist as he read, candle lit on his nightstand, still shirtless. He jumped at her intrusion, but stayed silent. He simply sat and waited.

She couldn't look at him, he was too beautiful.

"I love you," Emma stated, still refusing to look at him. "I know this must come as something of a surprise, since all I've ever done is boss you around and tell you my stories. But, I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm. Your eyes are like that, you know? Not before a storm, but after. After all the excitement, and the sun comes out to brighten the surroundings and it shines upon the waves. That's you. How many minutes ago was I? Twenty? Had I brought my feelings up to then? It doesn't matter." The sun was beginning to rise behind her and Emma let the warmth and the heat feed her courage as she continued. "I love you so much more now than twenty minutes ago that there cannot be comparison. I love you so much more now than when I opened your door, there cannot be comparison. There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can answer. If you plan to leave, I will follow. If you long for something, I will fetch it. If there is anything I can do for you, I will do for you. If there is anything I cannot do, I will learn. I know I am a simple princess without the charms and knowledge and beauty of Queen Cora, and I saw the way you looked at her. But please remember, she is old and is married while I am seventeen and for me there is only you. Dearest Killian – sweet, wonderful Killian. Whisper that I have a chance to win your love."

And with that, she did the bravest thing she would do all night. She looked up.

Killian had gotten up somewhere in the middle of her speech to stand in front of her. His eyes watching her intently as he listened to her words.

She gulped as her eyes begged for him to say something – anything.

He smiled, "As you wish."

As soon as the words left his mouth, she wrapped her hand around the nape of his neck and pulled his face to hers. They fell into each others arms as her lips pressed against his.

The precise rating of kissing is a terribly difficult thing, often leading to great controversy, because although everyone agrees with the formula of affection times purity times intensity times duration, no one has ever been completely satisfied with how much weight each element should receive. But on any system, there are five that everyone agrees deserves full marks.

This one left them all behind.


	2. Chapter 2: The Stable Boy

**Disclaimer: I couldn't just stick to ****_one _****chapter for tonight. I own nothing. I hope you enjoy! :)**

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When the two parted from lack of oxygen, Killian rested his forehead against hers as they fought to regain their breathing.

"That was…" he began.

"Perfect," Emma answered.

He smiled as he brought his hand to her face and began to stroke her cheek. "I'm leaving."

Emma's breathing stopped. Her heart leapt in her chest and the floor felt like it had been pulled from under her. "Now?"

"Yes."

"Because of what I just told you?"

"Yes."

Emma pulled away from his hold, taking a few steps backwards. "Did I frighten you away? I could kill my tongue." She shook her head, "Well, it's done. You've made your decision and you're leaving. I don't know what Cora can offer you that I can't. Well, I guess there are a few things, experience for one. But I will not take you back when she's done with you."

Killian rose an eye brow and smirked. "I'm not leaving for good. I'm going to join the King's Navy." He turned around and reached for the book he had been reading. Emma followed him into his room as he turned around and handed it to her. His book on sailing. "I've been doing a lot of reading on sailing and the Navy. I've been training myself. I'm going to be in the Navy and earn my nobility and honor."

"If you think Cora is going to be happy with some sailor for another King's Navy, you're crazy."

Killian rolled his eyes. "Will you stop talking about Cora! Before you drive me maaaad! Don't you understand? I'm doing this for _you_! So I'll be worthy of _you_!"

Emma bit her lip as she tried to hide her wide grin. "Do you love me, Killian? Is that it?"

"Do I love you?" he asked, astonished. "My gods, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches!"

Emma took Killian's hand, "I don't believe it."

He shook his head. "I have stayed all these years in the stables because of you. I have taught myself languages because I thought you might be pleased with a strong mind. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids. You say my eyes shine like the sea on a clear day, but the truth is: you are the sunshine that brightens my eyes. Do you want me to go on for a while?"

"Never stop."

"There has not been -"

Emma held her hand up, "If you're teasing me, Killian, I'm just going to kill you."

He chuckled, "How can you even dream I might be teasing?"

"You haven't once said you loved me," she replied, looking down at her feet.

"That's all you need? Easy!" he exclaimed. "I love you. Ok? Want it louder? I LOVE YOU! Spell it out? I ell-oh-vee-ee why-oh-you. Want it backward? You love I."

Emma playfully pat his chest, "You are teasing now!"

"A little, maybe." He smiled as he wrapped his arms around Emma's waist. "I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you said 'Stable boy do this' you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. 'I love you' was what it was, but you never heard."

"I hear you now, and I promise you this: I will never love anyone else. Only Killian."

Killian pulled Emma's hands to his lips as he kissed the backs of them. "I must be off to join the Navy. I will return in a year or two and tell you of my experience. We will sit in the stable and I can tell you my stories and you can tell me yours. I do so love your tales. And while I'm out to sea, I will write to you. And I will think about you at all hours. Presently, I will kiss your hands," he kissed the back of her hands again. "And I will kiss your cheeks," he kissed both her right then left cheek. "And I will kiss your forehead," he kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin.

"And I will kiss your lips," she whispered as he tilted his head down to hers. She kissed him long and slow, savoring the gentle tug, the taste, and the emotion that dripped from those lips. When they pulled apart, she smiled. "Good luck, Killian. Be the best sailor I know you are."

"As you wish," he smirked.

Killian was accepted into the King's Navy. Throughout the months, Charming would often rave about the skill their young stable boy possessed. Emma had always hidden away her smile, not ready to expose her interest in the man just yet. Though she had a feeling her mother was catching on. Emma had been far too happy, far too smiley, far too _clean _for everything to be normal.

The day after Killian left, Emma (for the first time since she was little) looked at her reflection in the mirror. She began thinking about what would happen if Killian met some woman in a local port or tavern. Or another princess or dame in a neighboring kingdom. What if she was prettier than her? Smarter? More cultured? Funnier? Told better stories?

That's when Emma decided to broaden her skills. She would ride Buttercup in the morning, clean her stable, clean Buttercup, and then meet her father to work on her sword fighting and fencing lessons or her mother to work on her archery lessons. By the afternoon she would work on her studies. She was learning the history of her kingdom, languages, mathematics, science, geography, and writing. Surprisingly, she found a deep interest in these studies, and soon she even stopped complaining whenever she would have to move on to yet another textbook. After she would meet with her mother for princess lessons; learning how to not only behave like a lady but work like a queen. In this time, Snow and David would teach her proper kingdom economics and politics. By the end of the day, Emma would take a long bath. She made sure to clean her face, her body, and her hair with extra care. Her long, golden hair grew shinier and fuller after just a few weeks of this routine and her wavy curls would bounce with each step she took. Before bed, Emma would read from a story book. She wanted to be well schooled in not only her textbooks and scrolls, but literature and fiction as well.

As Emma neared nineteen, she was rapidly beginning to grow and develop. Her baby fat began shedding to expose a lovely figure which began filling out those awful fancy gowns that she still hated wearing during important events. Her well grooming and aging revealed such a beautiful young woman that could soon trump her mother's legacy as the fairest in the land.

Emma's beauty and brains became legendary throughout the kingdom and even to other kingdoms. But it was after a letter from Killian arrived that Emma's beauty would shine so bright, everyone in the kingdom would grin with second hand happiness. And that's what really did it for her more than anything; her love for Killian would not stop growing.

When her father came to the dinner table one night to announce that Killian had been named Lieutenant of the _Jewel of the Realm_, Emma's joy for the stable boy knew no bounds. She leapt out of her seat and threw her arms around her father's neck in a hug.

"Emma, sweetheart," Snow began with a sly smile. "Is there something you've been meaning to tell us?"

Emma composed herself and sat back in her seat. "What do you mean?"

Charming cleared his throat, "Ever since Killian left, you've… changed. Not that that's a bad thing. But it just seems you've gone from this duckling and transformed into a beautiful swan."

"And your father and I believe it has something to do with the stable boy," Snow added. "With each letter that he sends, you grow even more joyful and more beautiful than the last."

Emma sat in her chair and bit her lip. She was a woman now, but she still felt like a small child whenever both of her parents were scrutinizing her. She sighed, but slowly a smile began to grace her face. "I'm in love with him," she simply stated.

Both of her parents had different reactions. Snow smiled knowingly as her eyes began to water. Charming's brow creased in shock as if the news had come from nowhere.

"That's why he joined the Navy," Emma admit. "To earn his honor and prestige within the kingdom so that one day you both may find him worthy enough to take my hand. I was willing to give it to him then and there, but he insisted this was the way it had to be. But I am in love with him, completely."

Snow looked to Charming, who was listening intently to his daughter's words as she spoke. He looked down at his meal as he thought. A few slow and painful seconds later, he cleared his throat and looked up at Snow. With a warm smile and a loaded nod, Charming turned his attention to their daughter. "If this is who you love, then we give you our blessing."

Emma couldn't believe her ears. For the second time that night, she leapt from her seat and threw her arms around her father's neck. Then she ran over to her mother and did the same, giving her an extra squeeze of appreciation for her understanding.

"But with his new ranking, Killian won't be back for a few months. They will be embarking on a journey, one that I'm sure will offer many stories after he returns," her father explained.

A letter arrived for Emma the next day, explaining everything her father had told her the night before: his new position, his journey, and his excitement. He told her about how beautiful his ship was, and he loved her. (That was the way his sentences always went: It was raining today and I love you. Say hello to Buttercup and I love you. Like that.)

She eagerly wrote him, telling him how proud of him she was, how excited, and of her own good news. Their good news. She told him about her parents blessing, and she loved him.

Emma could not wait for Killian to come home to her; for them to live out the rest of their lives loving each other and being with each other always. She felt like she could never get enough of her dear, sweet Killian. The only way she could have been happier would have been if he were in her arms right then.

Which was why Killian's death hit her the way it did.

A month without a response turned into two months. Emma understood that he was at sea, it was natural for mail to travel slowly. But two months turned into three months and there wasn't a response at all from the _Jewel of the Realm_. Finally, after Charming sent another ship out to find out what happened, they learned of the vessel's fate.

Snow and Charming entered Emma's study with a gloomy step.

Her mother started, "Off an island coast."

"Without warning, at night," her father added.

Emma looked up from her book. "What?"

"Pirates."

Her heart dropped. "He's – he's been taken – taken prisoner, then."

Snow shook her head, a tear falling down her cheek.

"It was Hook," her father said. "Captain Hook."

"The one who never leaves survivors," Emma whispered.

Her father reluctantly nodded.

The room was quiet.

Suddenly, Emma was talking very fast. "Was he stabbed?... Did he drown?... Did they cut his throat asleep?... Did they wake him, do you suppose?... Perhaps they whipped him dead…" She stood up then. "I'm getting silly, forgive me." She shook her head. "As if the way they got him mattered. Excuse me, please." With that she hurried to her room.

And that is where she stayed for many days. Her parents tried to lure her out, but she wouldn't have it. They left food outside her door, to which she only ate a few bites, enough to stay alive.

The pain was in the silence. There was never noise coming from her room: no wailing, no bitter sounds.

When she finally came out of her room, her eyes were dry. Her parents gaped at their daughter as she approached them at the breakfast table. Her mother started to rise from her chair to help her, but Emma held up her hand. "I can care for myself, please." They watched her closely as she pulled out her chair to sit down and began to eat.

In point of fact, she had never looked so well. She had entered her room as just an impossibly lovely girl. The woman who emerged was a trifle thinner, a great deal wiser, an ocean sadder. This one understood the nature of pain, and beneath the glory of her features, there was character, and a sure knowledge of suffering.

She was nineteen, and she was the fairest one of all throughout the entire Enchanted World.

She didn't seem to care.

"Sweetheart," her mother began, "are you alright?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure?" her father asked.

"Yes," Emma replied. After a long pause, she continued. "But I must never love again."

She never did.

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**"trustpixiedust: This is BRILLIANT! it's like my two favorite shows combined in one. I can't even handle it. I LOVE YOU. okay. This story is amazing (: I love love love it" I'm so glad you like it! I also cannot handle how excited I am to write it! I hope you continue to enjoy it! :) love love love ****_you_**** for your kind words and encouragement! **


	3. Chapter 3: The Groom

**Disclaimer: The reflection on Baelfire/Neal's character in this story has nothing to do with how I perceive his character in the show. I'm just molding him to fit the role of Prince Humperdinck. Same with Regina as she has taken on the role of Count Rugen. I own nothing, but I wish I did. I hope you enjoy! :) Also, the love and support I've been getting from this story has been overwhelming! Thank you all so much!**

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While Snow and Charming's kingdom was large and peaceful, the verge of war surrounded them. The Dark One's kingdom lied at the heart of it. King Rumplestilskin, in his quest for power, had obtained a castle and kingdom to rule over. Before his wife's mysterious death soon after his transformation to the Dark One, she provided Rumplestilskin with a son, Baelfire. In his first years, Baelfire resented his father's rise to power. He didn't want to be a prince; he didn't want to one day have to rule over a kingdom. He had one love: hunting.

Prince Baelfire was a handsome man with a high humor about him. Over the years, he'd come to find the life of a prince was more enjoyable than he originally thought. His father was in charge, which left Baelfire to his own activities. That's when he found his love for hunting.

He made it a practice never to let a day go by without killing something. It didn't matter what. When he first grew dedicated, he killed only big things: elephants or pythons. But then, as his skills increased, he began to enjoy the suffering of little beasts too. He could happily spend an afternoon tracking a flying squirrel across forests or a rainbow trout down rivers. Once he was determined, once he had focused on an object, the Prince was relentless. He never tired, never wavered, neither ate nor slept. It was death chess and he was international grand master.

In his quest to become the best hunter, Baelfire wished to travel the land in search for the most exotic animals. But Rumplestilskin was protective of his only heir. In order to keep his son from leaving the kingdom, he used his dark magic to create a Zoo of Death. In a quiet, remote corner of the castle grounds, the Zoo of Death was built underground and consisted of five levels. Each level had the proper needs for Baelfire's individual enemies. On the first level, he put enemies of speed: wild dogs, cheetahs, humming birds. On the second level belonged the enemies of strength: anacondas and rhinos and crocodiles of over twenty feet. The third level was for poisoners: spitting cobras, jumping spiders, death bats galore. The fourth level was the kingdom of the most dangerous, the enemies of fear: the shrieking tarantula, the blood eagle, plus, in its own black pool, the sucking squid.

The fifth level was empty.

The Prince constructed it in the hopes of someday finding something worthy, something as dangerous and fierce and powerful as he was. Unlikely. Still, he was an eternal optimist, so he kept the great cage of the fifth level always in readiness.

While the Dark Kingdom, as it soon came known to be called, was powerful and strong, Rumplestilskin was in the height of his greed for dominance. Since the time of his first reign, his kingdom had grown three fold in his triumph of war and victory.

The King had two kingdoms to conquer in his sights: the Charming kingdom and King George's kingdom.

King George was an old stubborn ruler who refused to let his son take the throne, so war against his land wouldn't be too difficult, so war against his land wouldn't be too difficult. The only problem was Rumplestilskin's people. They didn't want to go to war, they had no reason to. He felt if he pushed the war on his people, they might revolt. And if they revolted, he would have to kill them all with his dark magic. And if he killed them all, well then who would he rule over?

So to counter this, he had to trick them. He had to come up with a way for King George to initiate war in a way that would rile the people up so that they would want to go to war.

This was where his second kingdom destination came into play. The Charmings, or the Light Kingdom as it soon came known to be called because of Snow and Charming's legendary love and peace. With them, war was not the proper course of action. Charming had a strong army and navy, as well as support from neighboring kingdoms and their people.

A merge of the kingdoms would have to take place: a marriage.

Rumplestilskin approached his son with the idea.

"_Marriage?_" Baelfire had responded. "What do I have to get married for? You're the king, and you are going to be king forever. It's not like I'm going to be taking over the kingdom at any point in the near future. What good would a wife do me?"

"It's a political move, dearie. If you marry a princess, our kingdoms can merge. We can have a stronger army, better people, more _power_. Soon, our kingdom will be so large we won't have to fear anyone. We can take anything we want."

Baelfire rolled his eyes at his father's blabber. Who cared about power? But he reasoned that just because he would be married to some woman didn't mean he had to pay her much attention. He didn't have to like her, he didn't even have to look at her if he didn't want to. His father could create her very own wing or castle where she could have everything she needed without going to him.

This wouldn't be so bad.

"Fine, who did you have in mind?"

Rumplestilskin smiled a sly, mischievous smile. "Princess Emma, the daughter of Snow White and David Charming."

Baelfire shrugged. Of course, he'd heard of her beauty. Who hadn't? But he also knew the way people gossiped and exaggerated. "Does she hunt? I don't care so much about personality, just so they're good with a knife."

"I'm not sure, my boy. But she is well loved within her kingdom as well as others. Her beauty and popularity could be a great asset to our kingdom. I've also heard that she's quite smart."

"People will like me more if I have a pretty wife on my arm. I don't care if she can't spell."

With a wave of Rumplestilskin's hand, purple fog surrounded them. When it cleared, the pair of them were dressed in their most elegant robes and they were standing at the castle gates of the Light Kingdom. Baelfire groaned, he hated it when his father did this.

"What if she is not as she is rumored to be?" Baelfire asked as his father knocked on the castle door. "What if she is simply plain and people think that she is the best I can do and they will snicker?"

The guards recognized the two men immediately and announced their presence to the Charmings.

"True. If you prefer, we can leave?" Rumplestilskin whispered as they waited.

Baelfire shrugged. "We've come this far. We might as well wai –" His voice quite simply died. "I'll take her," he managed.

Charming and Snow walked into the room as Emma trailed behind. The Prince couldn't tare his eyes away from her.

"No one will snicker, I think," Rumplestilskin whispered.

Baelfire nodded, "I must court her now."

"Hello, King Rumplestilskin and Prince Baelfire," Snow greeted, a bit apprehensively. The Dark One's reputation never faltered. "What brings you to our kingdom?"

Baelfire took a step forward, "I have come to request your daughters hand in marriage. The union of our kingdoms would be mighty."

Snow and Charming were stunned. For a few moments, neither knew what to say. They looked to each other, then to their daughter whose face hadn't changed. In fact, for several months since the news about Killian, Emma's beautiful face had become stoic and expressionless.

"Shall we leave the children to talk while we discuss the potential prospects of this union?" Rumplestilskin requested.

The Charmings looked back to their daughter, who shrugged.

"Yes, let's discuss," Charming finally said, gesturing for Rumplestilskin to follow he and his wife into the other room.

When Emma and Baelfire were finally alone in the room, Baelfire stood up straight and tall.

"I am your suitor, a Prince, and you will marry me," he said boldly.

Emma raised an eye brow and scoffed. "I am a Princess who is free to do what she wants and I refuse."

"I am the son of the Dark One, and you cannot refuse."

"I am the daughter of Snow White and David Charming, and I just did."

"Refusal means war, death," he threatened.

"Kill me then."

Baelfire chuckled. Obviously this tactic wasn't working. "I'm not that bad – how would you rather be dead than married to me?"

"Because," Emma replied, "marriage involves love, and that is not a pastime at which I excel. I tried once, and it went badly, and I am sworn never to love another."

"Love?" Baelfire scoffed. "Who mentioned love? Not me, I can tell you. Look: the union of our kingdoms would be all powerful. Light and Dark joined as one. Your kingdom is in danger. My father has been informed of potential attack against you all by King George. That's what he is discussing with your parents now. A merge joined in marriage between our kingdoms, and you'll never have to worry about the safety of your people again. You love your people, right?" Emma nodded, contemplating what he was saying. "So why are you keeping them in danger?"

"I don't. But I'm not so easily manipulated by the silver tongue of the Dark One's son," Emma hissed. "But, I'm also responsible for my kingdom and my people's future. If what you say is true, if we are in danger, I will talk with my parents and contemplate your request. But know this, if I do marry you, I will never love you."

"I wouldn't want it if I had it."

After a week of family meetings and Charming sending out spies to King George's kingdom, it was official. An attack was being planned on their kingdom. Snow tried to insist that their army and navy was strong enough to fight against it, but Charming had been swayed by Rumplestilskin's insistence that together they would be a stronger force. Snow didn't want her daughter to be married to the Dark One's son. Emma had listened quietly.

When Snow asked what her thoughts were, Emma simply sighed. "It would be irresponsible not to marry him. I am the princess, future queen of this land and its people. I must protect it in any way I see fit. My happiness died many months ago, so what I want doesn't matter. I will marry the Prince."

Three years of preparation, politics, and negotiation passed by the time the marriage was finally announced.

A large crowd of people traveled from all ends of the kingdoms to gather around the balcony of the Dark One's castle. Rumplestilskin walked out to the ledge and raised his arm, signaling silence.

"My loyal subjects," Rumplestilskin announced in a booming voice amplified by his magic. "In three months our kingdom celebrates its three hundredth anniversary. To celebrate that celebration, we will bare witness to a marriage between kingdoms! My son, Prince Baelfire, will take the hand of the lovely Princess Emma, daughter of Queen Snow White and King David Charming. Some of you have not met the lovely princess, so you will do so now."

The balcony doors opened dramatically as Prince Baelfire and Princess Emma stepped into the open. The crowd gasped.

The twenty-two year old Princess far surpassed the nineteen year old mourner. Her figure faults were gone, the too bony elbows having fleshed out nicely; the opposite pudgy cheeks could not have been sharper. Her long hair, still the color of gold, was fuller and curlier. Her skin was wintery cream, and in certain lights, it seemed to provide her with a gentle glow.

The Prince took her hand and held it up. The crowd cheered. Baelfire tried to pull Emma back inside, "That's enough, mustn't risk overexposure."

Emma pulled out of his grasp, he may have been strong but she was strong too. "This is the first time I am meeting your people – soon to be _our _people. They have waited long enough. I would like to walk among them."

"We do not walk among commoners unless it is unavoidable in this kingdom," Baelfire insisted.

Emma shook her head. "Well I do in my kingdom. Just as I will in our kingdom."

And with that she left the balcony, reappeared a moment later on the great steps of the castle and, quite alone, walked open-armed down into the crowd.

Baelfire watched from the window as his fiancé defiled him. He shook his head, she was going to be a hard one to break.

A figure appeared next to him, but he recognized the form long before they made it next to him. As a hunter, his attention to his surroundings were impeccable.

"Countess Regina," he announced. "Lovely of you to make it to my wedding announcement."

She scoffed, "You think I would miss this?"

Regina was Baelfire's confidant, at his father's insistence. Apparently Regina and Rumplestilskin had worked together in the past and the man trusted her enough to deem her Countess of the kingdom and Baelfire's advisor. She preferred that her identity wasn't exposed outside the castle, however. Apparently whatever work her and his father had done together had been… messy.

Like his father, Regina was a master of dark magic. In fact, the way his father berated her whenever she made a mistake, he was under the impression that it was his father who had been the one to teach a young Regina.

Baelfire wasn't sure of the entire history, nor did he care. Regina was good at getting things done and assisting him in his hunts, and that's all he cared about.

"Look at her," Regina groaned, "welcoming the people like she really cared. No one could be that good hearted. Especially the daughter of Snow. An entire family full of _good _people calls for deviance and lies."

"The people do seem to love her," Baelfire said in a bored tone. "Come, harp on it no longer. Let's go have a good hunt! I'm thinking something in the third floor today, what do you think?"

"If you insist, my lord," Regina replied, pulling up on the gloves that sat over her hands.

Down below, Emma was moving amongst the crowd, shaking hands and hugging people. Most of the people there would never forget that day. None of them, of course, had ever been so close to perfection, and the great majority adored her instantly. There were, to be sure, some who, while admitting she was pleasing enough, were withholding judgment as to her quality as their queen. And, of course, there were some more who were frankly jealous. Very few of them hated her.

And only three of them were planning to murder her.

Emma, naturally, knew none of this. She was a princess by nature. So she kept her posture erect and her smile gentle. And that her death was so close would have only made her laugh, if someone had told her.

But –

- in the farthest corner of the kingdom –

- in the highest building in the land –

- deep in the deepest shadow –

- the man in black stood waiting.

His boots, pants, and vest were black and leather. His hair and his mask were black, blacker than raven. But blackest of all were his flashing eyes.

Flashing and cruel and deadly…

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**"Kari: This is so good! Please update fast!:)" Thank you! I'm trying! Lol. **

**"Lisa1972: *sniffle* this last chapter was sad :(" It was sad! I apologize. But that's the way the story goes... unfortunately. **

**"Clattering: I remember the first time I saw the Princess Bride...you are bringing it all back! Lovely to imagine Killian as sweet and unsullied...more please." I imagined Killian as the stable boy in this story as Killian on OUAT was when he was in the Navy lol. All "good form" and what not. Maybe we'll get some current Killian in the future ;) **

**"HookedOnCaptainSwan: You're writing this perfectly! I love it (: I can't wait for the next chapter :)" Thank you! I'm so glad you are enjoying this rendition! :) **

**"behager: Ok, so you are just gonna leave me there? COME ON, I want to know what happens, even though I have a guess hahahahahaha love it :)" Update! Update! Lol. I promise I won't take too long between chapters! I'm very excited about this story so I plan to focus on it! I'm glad you're liking it! :) **


	4. Chapter 4: The Theft

**Disclaimer: I ****_wish_**** I owned everything, but I don't. Thank you all for reading! Enjoy :)**

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Emma didn't want to stay in the kingdom, but Rumplestilskin insisted. They hadn't officially decided whose castle Emma and Baelfire were going to live in, or if they were going to build their own somewhere in the middle of their joined land. So, for now, she decided she should spend some time with her new family – as much as it pained her to do so.

It wasn't that Baelfire was a terrible person. He was quite funny when he wanted to be, he wasn't bad on the eyes, and he seemed to have a thing for animals. Emma just found him incredibly uninteresting. They hardly spoke unless she initiated the conversation. They hardly saw each other aside from breakfast and dinner. She soon learned that he spent most of his time hunting in his Zoo of Death, something that had made Emma cringe.

She didn't exactly care much about getting to _know _her fiancé, it's not like she wanted to fall in love with the guy. But life in the Dark One's castle was just so _boring_.

The staff was all afraid of her, something she assumed Rumplestilskin instilled in them. The town's people were the same. Half were intimidated by her beauty, the other half felt unworthy to be in her presence.

So Emma found ways of entertaining herself. She began to read the many books that scaled the walls of the Dark Castle's library. In the afternoon she would head outside. Here is where she could clear her head and do her best thinking. She would practice her sword fighting and fencing. Sometimes she was able to talk one of the guards into practicing with her. She would work on her archery in the forest, the trees as her targets.

But her favorite thing to pass the time was ride her beloved horse. She was able to move Buttercup to the kingdom, and she rode her for a few hours every day.

As she rode, she would often think about her predicament. About her marriage and her dedication to keeping her kingdom safe. King George hadn't shown any signs or threats of attacking their kingdom, but rumor was still afloat that the threat of war.

To her, there were two main problems: (1) was it wrong to marry without like, and (2) if it was, was it too late to do anything about it.

The answers were: (1) no and (2) yes.

It wasn't wrong to marry someone you didn't like, it just wasn't right either. If the whole world did it, that wouldn't be so great, what with everybody kind of grunting at everybody else as the years went by. But, of course, not everybody did it; so forget about that. The answer to (2) was even easier: she had given her word she would marry; that would have to be enough. True, he had told her quite honestly that if she said "no" war between the kingdoms would have been inevitable. Still, she could have, had she so chose, said "no."

Everyone had told her over the past couple of years that she was very likely the most beautiful woman in the realm. Now she was going to be the richest and most powerful as well.

But that wasn't important to her. She couldn't care less about power and fame and beauty. She cared about her people, their safety, and her dedication to being the best queen she could be. Love and happiness had been ripped from her reach years ago. She didn't expect much from her life; she was learning to be satisfied with what she had.

As dusk began to close the day, Emma decided it was time for her to turn and head back to the castle. She had been riding all evening, exploring different parts of the land. She was about an hour away from the castle and knew she had stayed out a bit too late, as she was sure to be late for dinner. Suddenly she reined Buttercup, for standing in the dimness beyond was the strangest trio she had ever seen.

The man in front was old, hair was white as snow and skin as worn as leather. His face was stern and held in a way that Emma recognized as prestige. Every King and Queen she had ever met in her years held themselves in the same manor.

The second was handsome, Irish perhaps, with the gentlest face, almost angelic. He was dressed as a huntsman, a long blade of steel attached to his side.

The third man, perhaps a giant, was easily the biggest human being she had ever seen.

"A word?" the older man said, raising his arms.

Emma halted, but stayed a bit away from the men. "Go on."

"We are but poor circus performers," the old man explained. Emma rose an eye brow, wondering if her instincts were getting rusty. "It is dark and we are lost. We were told there was a village nearby that might enjoy our skills."

"You were misinformed," Emma told him. "There is no one, not for many miles."

The man drew a mischievous smile, "Then there will be no one to hear you scream." The huntsman jumped with frightening agility toward her face.

That was all that Emma remembered. Perhaps she did scream, but if she did it was more from terror than anything else, because certainly there was no pain. His hands expertly touched places on her neck, and unconsciousness came.

She awoke to the lapping of water.

She was wrapped in a blanket and the giant was putting her in the bottom of a boat. She kept her eyes closed and pretended to sleep when she heard them begin to speak. But as she listened, she desperately wished she was still unconscious.

"I think you should kill her now," the giant said.

"The less you think, the happier I'll be," the old man answered.

There was the sound of ripping cloth.

"What is that?" the huntsman asked.

The old man replied, "The same as I attached to her saddle. Fabric from the uniform of an officer of my kingdom."

"I still think –" the giant began.

"She must be found dead on my kingdom frontier or you will not be paid the remainder of our fee. Is that clear enough for you?"

"I just feel better when I know what's going on, that's all," the giant mumbled. "People are always thinking I'm so stupid because I'm big and strong and sometimes I drool a little when I get excited."

"The reason people think you're so stupid," the old man said, "is because you are so stupid. It has nothing to do with your drooling."

"Watch your heads," the huntsman announced as the sound of a flapping sail followed. The boat began to move, "The people of the Dark and Light kingdom will not take her death well, I shouldn't think. She is very beloved."

"There will be war," the old man agreed, "between my kingdom and theirs. This is how we are starting it."

"I don't like killing a girl," the huntsman said.

"Gods do it all the time; if it doesn't bother them, don't let it worry you. Stow your school boy crush on the princess."

Through all this, Emma had not moved. Though she could swear her heart beat was loud enough to give away her consciousness. She had already begun to narrow down who exactly the old man was. There was no doubt in her mind that this was King George.

The huntsman said, "Let's just tell her we're taking her away for ransom."

The giant agreed. "She's so beautiful and she'd go all crazy if she knew."

"She knows already," King George said. "She's been awake for every word of this." Emma lifted her head and glared at the man. "I've been watching you. I've noticed the minute you began to stir awake."

If Emma's hands and feet hadn't been tied up, she would have shown him a thing or two her parents had taught her about fighting. But instead she sat silently, shooting daggers into the man who had stolen her.

"Dear beauty, trying to kill me with that glare isn't going to solve anything." He turned to the huntsman, "are you giving it full sail?"

The huntsman answered from the tiller, "As much as is safe."

"We have a couple of hours on them, so no risks yet. It will take her horse perhaps an hour to reach the castle, a few minutes more for them to figure out what happened and, since we left an obvious trail, they should be after us within two hours. We should reach the Cliffs in fifteen minutes more and, with any luck at all, my kingdom's frontier at dawn, when she dies. Her body should be quite warm when the Prince reaches her mutilated form. I only wish we could stay for his grief – it should be Homeric."

Emma sat and wondered why he would let her know of his plans. When she opened her mouth to speak, the King snapped his fingers for the huntsman's attention. With one gesture, the huntsman walked over to Emma and placed his hands in the same place he had before on her neck.

Before she grew unconscious, she swore he whispered an apology…

Emma didn't know how long she was out, but they were still in the boat when she blinked, the blanket still wrapped around her. They had only tied her hands and feet, but hadn't tied her to the boat. Without a second thought, Emma threw off the blanket and dove deep into the sea.

She stayed under for as long as she dared and then surfaced, starting to swim as best as she could across the moonless water. Behind her in the darkness there were cries.

"Go in, go in!" from King George.

"I only dog paddle," from the giant.

"You're better than I am," from the huntsman.

Emma continued to leave them behind her. She was moving slowly, but she tried her best to move in the direction opposite of the boat.

"I can hear her kicking," King George said. "Veer left! Where _is _she?"

"If she doesn't get out of the water soon, the mermaids will get her!" the huntsman proclaimed.

_The mermaids_. Emma had forgotten about the mermaids. They were cruel and vicious creatures who lured ships to their doom and drowned anyone they could pull into the water. And Emma was already in the water…

She began to hear the cries deep down beneath her. She began to panic.

"Come back now, princess," the King called out. "If you come back now, I will give you my word as a gentleman and assassin that you will die totally without pain. I assure you, you will get no such promise from the mermaids."

The mermaid's cries grew louder and closer, an ominous glow starting to rise from the depths.

Emma began to tremble with fear. She was terribly ashamed of herself, but there it was. She felt almost paralyzed her in place, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Very Homeric indeed.

The cries below her grew louder and all around her she could hear the splashing. Whether it was the mermaids own arms or mighty tails, Emma had no clue. The only thing she knew: she was going to die.

Fortunately for all concerned, save the mermaids, it was around this time that the moon came out.

"There she is!" shouted the King, and like lightning the huntsman turned the boat and as the boat drew close the giant reached out a giant arm and then she was back in the safety of her murderers while around them the mermaids bumped each other in wild frustration.

"Keep her warm," the huntsman said from the tiller, tossing his cloak to the giant.

Emma, despite being free of the dangers of the mermaids, scoffed at the huntsman's attempt of kindness. "Does it matter? Seeing as you're killing me at dawn."

The huntsman looked almost ashamed of her words, turning his focus back to the ship.

"He'll do the actual work," the giant said, indicating the King. "We'll just hold you."

"Hold your stupid tongue," the King commanded.

The giant immediately hushed.

"I don't think he's so stupid," Emma hissed at the King. "And I don't think you're so smart either."

The King scoffed, "I knew once you were surrounded by the mermaids you would get frightened. Once women are sufficiently frightened, they scream."

"But I didn't scream; the moon came out," answered Emma. "I would have died at the hands of those demon creatures with more honor than with your filthy hands around my neck. You think you're some great and powerful King – pathetic. Untie my hands and feet and face me like a _gentleman _would. I could tear apart your disgusting existence with just a few swift moves. And then I would take you back to my father, and let him have his go at you. Then, the Dark One and his son. Imagine the pain and suffering –"

King George slapped the princess, busting her lip. The taste of her own blood entered her mouth. She looked up and spit the blood in the King's face. He struck her again; that would definitely leave a black eye.

"Enough of that," the huntsman said then.

The giant agreed, "Yes, stop."

The King turned his attention to the giant, looking up at him without any fear, "Do you want to fight me? I don't think you do."

"No sir," the giant mumbled. "No. But don't use force. Please. Force is mine. Strike me if you feel the need. I don't care."

The King returned to the other side of the boat. "She _would _have screamed. She was _about _to cry out. My plan was _ideal _as _all _my plans are ideal. It was the moon's ill timing that robbed me of perfection." He stared ahead of the ship, "There! The Cliffs of Insanity."

And there they were. Rising straight and sheer from the water, a thousand feet into the night. They provided the most direct route between her kingdom and George's, but no one ever used them, sailing instead the long way, many miles around. Not that the Cliffs were impossible to scale; two men were known to have climbed them in the last century alone.

"Sail straight for the steepest part," King George commanded.

The huntsman nodded, "I was."

Emma didn't understand this approach. She had heard stories of the Cliffs; going up them could hardly be done and she had never heard of a secret passage through them. Yet here they were, sailing closer and closer to the mighty rocks, now surely less than a quarter-mile away.

The King smiled, "All is well. I was afraid your little jaunt in the water was going to cost me too much time. We are miles ahead of anybody and safe, safe, safe."

"No one could be following us yet?" the huntsman asked.

"No one," the King assured him. "It would be inconceivable."

"Absolutely inconceivable?"

"Absolutely, totally, and, in all other ways, inconceivable," the King reassured him. "Why do you ask?"

The huntsman shrugged, "No reason. It's only that I just happened to look back and something's there."

They all whirled.

Something was indeed there. Less than a mile behind them across the moonlight was another sailing boat, small, painted what looked like black, with a giant sail that billowed black in the night, and a single man at the tiller.

A man in black.

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**"Dede42: I'm enjoying this and I can't wait to see what happens in the next chapter. :)" Hello there! I'm so excited you've found your way over to this story! I feel like I'm cheating a bit on my OUAST story lol. But I'm glad you're enjoying it! :) **

**"Lisa1972: oh wow..." I hope that's a good oh wow lol. **

**"Kari: Great update! Can't wait for the next update!:)3 love it!" Updating! :) I'm glad you're liking it!**

**"proudlesbian: i love it cant wait until the next chapter" Thank you! :) I'm so honored by everyone's support and kind words! **

**"madamkitkat: I love how you have put so much detail from the book that was not in the movie.. And of course that it is Captain Swan." I love the movie, but I ****_LOVE _****the book. And with the background I wanted to give the Captain Swan angle, I decided it would be more appropriate to base it off of the book's foundation. And there are just some quotes from the book that I absolutely adore and couldn't imagine creating a rendition without including his exact text. I just hope that I'm doing it justice! **


	5. Chapter 5: The Huntsman

**Disclaimer: I can't even begin to explain to you all how overwhelmed I am with the support for this story! I've never written anything that's gotten this much love this fast before. You all are completely, 100% awesome people and you can't even fathom how much I appreciate it! **

**I own nothing. Except Graham's backstory. This story is probably going to be a bit longer than the movie, as I would like to include some backstory for a few of the characters. But don't worry, everything you all love about the story will be there eventually! I hope you enjoy! :)**

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"It must just be some local fisherman… out for a pleasure cruise… alone at night… through mermaid-infested waters," the huntsman tried to reason after discovering the mysterious man following them.

King George nodded, "There is probably a more logical explanation. But since no one in my kingdom could know yet what we've done, and no one in the Dark kingdom could have gotten here so quickly, he is definitely not, however much it may look like it, following us. It is coincidence and nothing more."

"I think he's gaining on us," the giant added.

"That is also inconceivable," the King said. "This is the fastest ship in my entire kingdom."

The giant shrugged, "You're right. He isn't gaining on us. He's just getting closer, that's all."

"It is the angle we're looking from and nothing more."

Emma heard the words the King was saying, but she couldn't tear her eyes from the great black sail. Surely the three men she was with frightened her, whether she was willing to admit it or not. But somehow, for reasons she could never begin to explain, the man in black frightened her more.

"Maybe he's using different wind than we are," the huntsman said in a condescending tone, to which Emma had to physically stop herself from chuckling.

The Cliffs of Insanity were growing closer. The huntsman maneuvered the ship expertly against the waves and around the rocks. Emma had only ever seen the cliffs from a distance in one of her father's vessels, and even from a distance they intimidated her. But now, as she put her head straight back and stared at the darkness toward the top, it seemed so shrouded and out of reach and terrifying.

Emma's gaze had been so distracted that she hadn't noticed the rope King George was holding on to that seemed to be tied to something at the top.

"Fast now," the King ordered. "If he is following us, which of course is not within the realm of human experience, but if he is, we've got to reach the top and cut the rope off before he can climb up after us."

Emma's mouth dropped, "_Climb_? You've got to be crazy if you think –"

"Hush!" The King turned to the huntsman, "Get ready!" Then he turned to the giant, "Sink it."

And then everyone got busy. The huntsman took Emma and lifted her up, carrying her over to the King. Emma tried to restrain, but gave up when the ropes began to cut into her wrists and ankles. The giant raised his great leg and stomped down at the center of the boat, which gave way immediately and began to sink. He then went to the rope and took it in his large hands.

"Load me," the giant said.

The huntsman carried Emma to the giant and draped her body around his shoulders. Then he tied himself to giant's waist. Then the King tied himself to the other side of his waist.

The great big giant began to climb. Despite the thousand feet climb and the three people he was carrying, he wasn't worried. Strength had never been his enemy. And as he climbed up the rope, he actually felt quite happy, because it was only when he was requested to use his might that he felt he wasn't a bother to everybody.

Up he climbed, arm over arm, arm over arm, two hundred feet now above the water, eight hundred feet now to go.

More than any of them, the King was afraid of heights. King George had never been a very strong man or charming man, or even a kind man. But he spent years relying on his mind. He trained it, fought it, brought it to heel. So now, three hundred feet in the night and rising higher, while he should have been trembling, he was not.

Instead he was thinking of the man in black.

There was no way anyone could have been quick enough to follow them. And yet from some devil's world that billowing black sail had appeared. How? The King flogged his mind to find an answer, but he found only failure. In wild frustration he took a deep breath and, in spite of his terrible fears, he looked back down towards the dark water.

The man in black was still there, sailing like lightning toward the Cliffs. He could not have been more than a quarter-mile from them now.

"Faster!" the King commanded.

"I'm sorry," the giant answered meekly. "I thought I was going faster."

"We're just a little over half way up, I should think. You're doing wonderfully, Anton," the huntsman called out.

"Thank you," said the giant, whose name Emma now knew.

"And he's closing on the Cliffs," the huntsman added, looking down.

No one had to ask who "he" was.

Six hundred feet now. The arms continued to pull, over and over. Six hundred and twenty feet. Six hundred and fifty. Now faster than ever. Seven hundred.

"He's left his boat behind," the huntsman said. "He's jumped onto our rope. He's starting up after us."

"I can feel him," Anton said. "His body weight on the rope."

"He'll never catch up!" the King cried. "Inconceivable!"

"You keep using that word!" the huntsman snapped. "I don't think it means what you think it does!"

The King, huntsman, and Emma looked down. The man in black seemed almost to be flying. Already he had cut their lead a hundred feet. Perhaps more.

"I thought you were supposed to be so strong!" the King shouted. "I thought you were this great mighty thing and yet he gains!"

"Stop yelling at him!" Emma shouted back to the King.

"I'm carrying three people," Anton explained. "He has only himself and –"

"Excuses are the refuge of cowards," the King interrupted. He looked down again. The man in black had gained another hundred feet.

Emma looked up, the cliff tops were beginning to come into view. Perhaps a hundred and fifty feet more until they were safe. As Emma looked from the top to below, she wasn't sure what she wanted to happen. If she could just get out of these ropes, surely she could defend herself better. Possibly disarm the huntsman and fight for her escape.

"_Fly, Anton!" _the King screamed. "A hundred feet to go!"

Anton flew. He cleared his mind of everything but ropes and arms and fingers, and his arms pulled and his fingers gripped and the rope held taut and –

"He's over halfway," the huntsman said.

"Halfway to doom is where he is," the King said. "We're fifty feet from safety, and once we're there and I untie the rope…" he allowed himself to laugh.

Forty feet.

Anton pulled.

Twenty.

Ten.

It was over. Anton had done it. They had reached the top of the Cliffs, and first the King jumped off and then the giant removed the Princess, and as the huntsman untied himself, he looked back over the Cliffs.

The man in black was no more than three hundred feet away.

"It seems a shame," Anton said, looking down alongside the huntsman. "Such a climber deserves better than –" he stopped talking then.

The King had untied the rope from its knots around an oak. The rope seemed almost alive, the greatest of all water serpents heading at last for home. It whipped across the cliff tops, spiraled into the moonlit ocean.

The King was roaring now, and he kept at it until the huntsman said, "He did it."

"Did what?" the King came scurrying to the cliff edge.

"Released the rope in time," the huntsman said. "See?"

The man in black was hanging in space, clinging to the sheer rock face, seven hundred feet above the water. He dangled helpless in space, clinging to the Cliffs with both hands.

"Oh, how rude we're being," the King said then, turning to Emma. "I'm sure you'd like to watch." He grabbed her arm and, despite her tug, brought her to the edge so that she could watch the final pathetic struggle of the man in black three hundred feet below.

Emma had inherited her mother and father's kind and gentle nature. So no matter if the man were a thief or murderer or psycho, she couldn't watch him fall to his death. She closed her eyes and turned away.

The huntsman, who had been watching Emma, spoke up. "Shouldn't we be going? I thought you were telling us how important time was."

"It is, it is," the King nodded. "But I just can't miss a death like this. I could stage one of these every week and sell tickets. Look at him – do you think his life is passing before his eyes? That's what the books say."

"He has very strong arms," Anton commented. "To hold on so long."

"He can't hold on much longer. He has to fall soon."

It was at that moment that the man in black began to climb. Not quickly, of course. And not without great effort. But still, there was no doubt that he was, in spite of the sheerness of the Cliffs, heading in an upward direction.

"Inconceivable!" the King cried.

The huntsman whirled on him. "_Stop saying that word! _It was inconceivable that anyone could follow us, but when we looked back, there was the man in black. It was inconceivable that anyone could sail as fast as we could sail, and yet he gained on us. Now this too is inconceivable, but look – _look –" _and the huntsman pointed down through the night. "See how he rises."

The man in black was, indeed, rising. Somehow, in some almost miraculous way, his fingers were finding holds in the crevices, and he was now perhaps fifteen feet closer to the top, farther from death.

The King advanced on the huntsman now, his wild eyes glittering at the insubordination. "I have the keenest mind that has ever been turned to unlawful pursuits," he began, "so when I tell you something, it is not guesswork; it is fact! And the fact is that the man in black is _not _following us. A more logical explanation would be that he is simply an ordinary sailor who dabbles in mountain climbing as a hobby who happens to have the same general destination as we do. That certainly satisfies me and I hope it satisfies you. In any case, we cannot take the risk of his seeing us with the Princess, and therefore one of you must kill him."

"Shall I do it?" the giant wondered.

The King shook his head, "No, Anton. I need your strength to carry the girl. Pick her up now and let us hurry along." He turned to the huntsman. "We'll be heading directly for the frontier of my kingdom. Catch up as quickly as you can once he's dead."

The huntsman nodded, then the King turned to lead the way.

The giant, with an apologetic smile, hoisted Emma and began to follow the King. Just before he lost sight of the huntsman he turned and hollered, "Catch up quickly!"

"Don't I always?" the huntsman waved. "Farewell, Anton."

"Farewell, Graham," the giant replied. And then he was gone, and the huntsman was alone.

Graham moved to the cliff edge and knelt with his customary quick grace. Two hundred and fifty feet below him now, the man in black continued his painful climb. Graham lay flat, staring down, trying to pierce the moonlight and find the climber's secret. For a long while, Graham did not move. He was a good learner, the wolves had taught him as well as they could. But not a particularly fast one, so he had to study. Finally, he realized that somehow, by some mystery, the man in black was making fists and jamming them into the rocks, and using them for support. Then he would reach up with his other hand, until he found a high split in the rock, and make another fist and jam it in. whenever he could find support for his feet, he would use it, but mostly it was the jammed fists that made the climbing possible.

Graham marveled. What a truly extraordinary adventurer this man in black must be. He was close enough now for Graham to realize that the man was masked, a black hood covering all but his features. Another outlaw? Perhaps. Then why should they have to fight and for what? Graham shook his head. It was a shame that such a fellow must die, but he had his orders, so there it was. Sometimes he did not like the King's commands, but what could he do? Without the brains of the King, he would never be able to command jobs of this caliber. The King was the master planner. Graham was a creature of the moment. The King said "kill him," so why waste sympathy on the man in black. Someday someone would kill Graham, and the world would not stop to mourn.

He stood now, quickly jumping to his feet, his agile body ready. For action. Only, the man in black was still many feet away. There was nothing to do but wait for him.

Graham hated waiting.

He thought about the Princess. She indeed was more beautiful than the legends had described. But it was something else that left an impression on the huntsman. Something in her cloudy green eyes that tugged at some corner of his chest that had been ripped out long ago. Something that made him question himself. Namely, his alliance with the King.

But everyone had their reasons for getting into this messy business, and Graham was no exception.

Graham's family had lived in this small shack of a home in the outskirts of a village. They were short on money and supplies, but his mother had always done the best she could to make sure that Graham was happy. While his father was at work, she would take him out into the woods and have picnics while finding fresh berries and plants to eat. She was the one who had taught him about the land; what was poisonous and what was safe. When he was eight years old, she constructed a bow and put together a few arrows to teach him how to shoot. His mother was everything to him, and he loved her completely.

His father had always kept him at arm's length, however. From the moment Graham had turned five, his father was disappointed in him. Disappointed that Graham wasn't the tallest, or the most athletic, or the strongest, or the fastest, or the smartest. And he was constantly frustrated with his family's lack of means. There was never enough money, never enough food. But there was always enough for booze.

His father was a mean drunk, loud and angry. On most nights, he would take his frustrations with his life out on his wife. Those were the nights Graham would bury himself beneath his single sheet of cover on his small mattress that sat on the floor by the kitchen table. He would cry himself to sleep as to drown out the wails and thrashings.

As Graham's tenth birthday approached, his father's nightly routines began to grow more abundant and harsh. One night, his mother's cries simply ceased unexpectedly. Tentatively, Graham crept into his parent's room to see what had happened.

Blood. Blood everywhere.

Terror filled Graham's eyes as he connected the dots. He ran. Ran out into the woods as fast as he could. He thought he heard the sound of his father yelling out his name in the distance, but Graham kept running.

After many long nights, Graham found refuge with the wolves. They became his family. Taught him to hunt, to track, and to love. Not only himself and his family, but nature as a whole. How to have a respect for all those living, and those whose lives were taken to keep others alive.

But tragedy struck once again. Graham, then in his teens, was known as the outcast huntsman in the land living among the wolves.

One day, a fleet of the Dark One's soldiers marched throughout the forest. One particular soldier dressed in all black with a black armored helmet led the group, instructing them to round up every wolf they could find. Graham stood his ground against the soldier, fighting with his dull blade against their mighty sword. Unvictorious, Graham fell to his knees as he watched the soldier take off their black glove, revealing a red glowing hand. Graham's companion, a wolf with one red eye, lunged for the soldier. But with one wave of the soldier's hand, the wolf vanished in a puff of purple haze. Graham cried out for his friend, but the soldier pushed their blade harder to his neck, quieting him.

Without a word, the soldier dug their hand into Graham's chest. Pain. A grip tightened around his heart, squeezing it until Graham cried out in anguish. Just when he thought his life was about to be squeezed out, the soldier pulled their hand out from his chest, revealing his still-beating heart in their palm.

With another wave of the soldier's hand, they were gone. The fleet, the wolves, and his heart.

For the last decade, Graham spent his days learning. He traveled throughout every corner of the realm learning how to use a sword, and use it well. His first master was so impressed, he fashioned him a great and strong blade that far outshined his dull one. He learned every type of sword fighting style this world had to offer. He grew strong and agile.

He had his plan carefully prepared in his mind. He would find the red-handed soldier. He would go up to them. He would say simply, "Hello, my name is Graham Humbert, you stole my heart and killed my family, prepare to die." And then, oh then, the duel.

It was a lovely plan really. Simple, direct. No frills. In the beginning, Graham had all kinds of wild vengeance notions, but gradually, simplicity had seemed the better way.

Graham had only one problem: he could not find the enemy.

It never occurred to him there would be the least difficulty. After all, how many soldiers would have a red hand? But description of the soldier had left him with nothing, as no one knew the person of which he spoke of.

It was only after a few solid years of failure that he began to worry. By then he knew what had happened: ten years learning was ten years too long; too much had been allowed to happen.

Graham, in his mid-twenties, began having a few extra glasses of whiskey at night, to help him get to sleep. Soon he was having a few extra glasses to help him digest his lunch. Then the liquor was essential to wake him in the morning. His world was collapsing around him. Not only was he living in daily failure, something almost as dreadful was beginning to happen:

Sword fighting was beginning to bore him.

He was simply too good. Throughout his travels, he found "champions" to fight against. And he beat them all.

At twenty-seven, he gave up the ghost. He stopped his search, forgot to eat, slept only on occasion. He had his whiskey for company and that was enough.

He was a shell. The greatest sword fighter throughout the realm was barely even practicing the sword.

He was in this condition when King George found him.

Eventually, the King was able to nudge him off the bottle with incentive and force. The incentive was information. The King had information on the soldier in which Graham had been searching. If Graham helped him fulfill the great heist of kidnapping and killing Princess Emma, he would tell him exactly where this soldier with the red hand was and how to stop them.

So this was how Graham found himself teamed up with King George and Anton. And quite the team they were. Nothing was beyond or beneath them. Graham's blade was flashing again, more than ever like lightning. Anton's strength grew more prodigious with the months.

But the King was the leader. There was never doubt. Without him, Graham knew where he would be: on his back begging whiskey in some alley entrance. The King's word was not just law, it was gospel.

So when he said, "Kill the man in black," all other possibilities ceased to exist. The man in black had to die.

* * *

**"Kari: I didnt expect that to be King George! I thought it was goning to be someone else! Any great update! Cant wait for Killian to come back!:)" Next chapter! I promise! We'll get witty banter and a fight scene! :)**

**"James-Padfoot: Well, to be honest, you had me at the title. That being said, I do enjoy your writing and look forward to more." Thank you! I did hope that the title would draw people in lol. **

**"Dede42: Shame that you didn't put in the rhyming bit from the movie version, but it'll be interesting to see how the rest of this goes. Plus, I've only ever seen the movie so I'm not completely familiar with the book, but that doesn't matter since I'm enjoying this a lot." I'm glad you're enjoying it! Anybody want a peanut? **

**"trustpixiedust: Hello again... (: I couldn't stop myself from writing a review again. THIS IS SO GOOD I CAN'T BEGIN TO DESCRIBE IT'S BEAUTY. I love how you made Graham into Inigo. Pure genius. Pure pure genius. I love this story so much. It's just ahhhhhhhhhhhmazing. (:" I welcome all reviews, anytime! I love hearing what people think of the story and seeing if they like it. And thank you! :) I hope you'll enjoy this chapter then especially and like what I did with his character's story. **

**"Lisa1972: oh my wow's are always good :) This is excellent :) her Killian came back for her!" Good! I will cross my fingers for future oh wow's! :) **

**"Guest: AAGGGGGGGGGh update quick ! I love it" Updating, updating! :) thank you! **

**"HookedOnCaptainSwan: AH LOVE IT! And it just makes me squel with joy that you're updating so fast :) Cant wait for the next chapter!" Thank you! I will definitely be updating a bit faster than I did for this last chapter. I ****_love _****this story and enjoy writing it too much to let it sit for too long! :) **

**"Guest: I love this! Can't wait for the next update" Thank you!**

**"proudlesbian: again i say i love it and cant wait until the next chapter" And I love reading you say it! :) **

**"tardisinpigfarts: I lovee how you mix the book with captain swan story. You've done a great job. Can't wait til the next chapter. Please update! :)" Thank you! I'll definitely start updating a bit faster! **

**"queenfrizz30: Love it. Even thought I know the movie, I still can't wait to see how the story unfolds. I am really looking forward to Emma and Killian meeting up again, and the fire swamp." Luckily the book and movie were written by the same person, so they're definitely very similar. Only the book adds a bit more detail on the character's and their backgrounds. Which I wanted to include lol. And thank you! **

**"indigofrog: Perfect crossover. I adore both OUAT and The Princess Bride. Cannot wait to read more!" Thank you! :) **

**"Zerousy: I'm tingling with excitement! I love this story! Keep the chapters coming. I don't how long it takes you to update but I hope it isn't too long." I'm tingling with appreciation for your love! :) I don't take that long between updates, I promise! At most it will be a week, but I doubt it will take even that! **

**"deansmistress22: Wow. This is wonderful. I love the Princess Bride. I love the fact that they brought this into OUAT. Maybe I will finally get a pairing that actually works out for once. It used to happen all of the time when I was young and now it never does. Look at me whining lol. Your descriptions are lovely. I really can't wait for the banter. Its one of the things I love most about Westley and Buttercup and Killian and Emma. Passion and fire. love it. Can't wait to see what you do here!" I love the banter too! For both couples! Lol. Thank you so much! :) **

**Soooo many reviews! I'm sorry if this takes up a lot of room in the chapter but I just can't ****_not _****reply to all of you lovely readers! Thank you all for sharing your thoughts with me. You all are amazing! **


	6. Chapter 6: The Cliffs

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned everything! Enjoy :)**

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Graham paced the cliff edge, fingers snapping. Fifty feet below him now, the man in black still climbed. Graham's patience was beginning to bubble beyond control. He stared down at the slow progress. Find a crevice, jam in the hand, find another crevice, jam in the other hand; forty-eight feet to go. Graham slapped his sword handle, and his finger snapping began to go faster. He examined the hooded climber, half hoping he would be the red-handed soldier. But his hand was covered by a black glove.

Forty-seven feet to go now.

Now forty-six.

"Hello there," Graham hollered when he could wait no more.

The man in black glanced up and grunted.

"I've been watching you."

The man in black nodded.

"Slow going," Graham said.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude," the man in black said finally, "but I'm rather busy just now, so try not to distract me."

Graham held up his hand, "I'm sorry."

The man in black grunted again.

"I don't suppose you could speed things up," Graham said.

"If you want to speed things up so much," the man in black said, clearly quite angry now, "you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find some other helpful thing to do."

"I could do that," Graham agreed. "But I don't think you would accept my help, since I am only waiting up here so that I can kill you."

"That does put a damper on our relationship," the man in black said then. "I'm afraid you'll just have to wait."

"I hate waiting," Graham exhaled.

Forty-three feet left.

Forty-one.

"I could give you my word as a huntsman," Graham said.

"No good," the man in black replied. "I've known too many huntsmen."

"I'm going crazy up here," Graham said.

"Anytime you want to change places, I'd be too happy to accept."

Thirty-nine feet.

And resting.

The man in black just hung in space, feet dangling, the entire weight of his body supported by the strength of his hand jammed into the crevice.

"Come along now," Graham pleaded.

"It's been a bit of a climb," the man in black explained, "and I'm weary. I'll be fine in a quarter-hour or so."

Another quarter-hour! Inconceivable. "Look, we've got a piece of extra rope up here we didn't need when we made our original climb, I'll just drop it down to you and you grab hold and I'll pull and –"

"No good," the man in black repeated. "You _might _pull, but then again, you also just _might _let go, which, since you're in a hurry to kill me, would certainly do the job quickly."

"But you wouldn't have ever known I was going to kill you if I hadn't been the one to tell you. Doesn't that let you know I can be trusted?"

"Frankly, and I hope you won't be insulted, no."

"There's no way you'll trust me?"

"Nothing comes to mind."

Suddenly Graham raised his right hand high – "I swear on the soul of Annabelle Humbert you will reach the top alive!"

The man in black was silent for a long time. Then he looked up. "I do not know this Annabelle of yours, but something in your tone says I must believe you. Throw me the rope."

Graham quickly tied it around a rock, dropped it over. The man in black grabbed hold, hung suspended alone in space. Graham pulled. In a moment, the man in black was beside him.

"Thank you," the man in black said, and he sank down on the rock.

Graham sat alongside him. "We'll wait until you're ready," he said.

The man in black breathed deeply. "Again, thank you."

Graham gestured to the man's black glove, "I don't mean to pry, but you don't by any chance happen to have a red right hand, do you?

"Do you always begin conversations this way?" the man in black asked, intrigued. Graham shrugged. The man in black nodded, pulling off his glove to reveal a normal, tan right hand. "I'm sorry to disappoint.

"No bother." Graham shuffled his feet while silence fell between them. He cleared his throat, "Why have you followed us?"

"You carry baggage of much value."

"We have no intention of selling," Graham said.

"That is your business."

"And yours?"

The man in black made no reply.

"The princess is quite a vision," Graham added, seeing if this would give way to revealing his intent.

"Aye," the man in black simply responded. "So I've heard. But as are all princesses with enough gold in their purses and power up their sleeves."

Graham shook his head, "You wouldn't be saying that if you met this one. If I had met Emma on any other circumstances…" his voice dropped and his gaze wavered.

The man in black exhaled deeply, still trying to catch his breath. Graham cleared his throat, realizing just how off topic he was getting.

Graham stood and walked away, surveying the terrain over which they would battle. It was a splendid plateau, really, filled with trees for dodging around and roots for tripping over and small rocks for losing your balance on and boulders for leaping off if you could climb on them fast enough, and bathing everything, the entire spot, moonlight. One could not ask for a more suitable testing ground for a duel, Graham decided. It had everything, including the marvelous Cliffs at one end, beyond which was the wonderful thousand food drop, always something to bear in mind when one was planning tactics. It was perfect. The place was perfect.

Provided the man in black could fence.

_Really _fence.

Graham then examined the man in black. A fine sailor, yes; a mightier climber, no question; courageous, without a doubt.

But could he fence?

_Really _fence?

Please, Graham thought. It has been so long since I have been tested, let this man test me. Let him be a glorious swordsman. Let him be both quick and fast, smart and strong. Give him a matchless mind for tactics, a background the equal of mine. Please, please, it's been so long: let – him – be – a – _master! _

"I have my breath back now," the man in black said from the rock. "Thank you for allowing me my rest."

"We'd best get on with it then," Graham replied.

The man in black stood.

"You seem a decent fellow," Graham said. "I hate to kill you."

"You seem a decent fellow," answered the man in black. "I hate to die."

"But one of us must," Graham said. "_Begin_."

And so saying he took his great sword… and put it into his left hand.

He had begun all his duels left-handed lately. It was good practice for him, and although he was the only wizard swordsman in the world with his regular hand, the right, still, he was more than worthy with his left. Perhaps thirty men alive were his equal when he used his left. Perhaps as many as fifty; perhaps as few as ten.

The man in black was also left-handed and that warmed Graham; it made things fairer. His weakness against the other man's strength. All to the good.

They touched swords, and the man in black immediately began the Agrippa defense, which Graham felt was sound, considering the rocky terrain, for the Agrippa kept the feet stationary at first, and made the chances of slipping minimal. Naturally, he countered with Capo Ferro which surprised the man in black, but he defended well, quickly shifting out of Agrippa and taking the attack himself, using the principles of Thibault.

Graham had to smile. No one had taken the attack against him in so long, and it was thrilling! He let the man in black advance, let him build up courage, retreating gracefully between some trees, letting his Bonetti defense keep him safe from harm.

Then his legs flicked and he was behind the nearest tree, and the man in black had not expected it and was slow reacting. Graham flashed immediately out from the tree, attacking himself now, and the man in black retreated, stumbled, got his balance, continued moving away.

Graham was impressed with the quickness of the balance return. Most men the size of the man in black would have gone down or, at least, fallen to one hand. The man in black did neither; he simply quick-stepped, wrenched his body erect, continued fighting.

They were moving parallel to the Cliffs now, and the trees were behind them, mostly. The man in black was slowly being forced toward a group of large boulders, for Graham was anxious to see how well he moved when quarters were close, when you could not thrust or parry with total freedom. He continued to force, and then the boulders were surrounding them. Graham suddenly threw his body against a nearby rock, rebounding off it with stunning force, lunging with incredible speed.

First blood was his.

He had pinked the man in black, grazed him only, along the left wrist. A scratch was all. But it was bleeding.

Immediately the man in black hurried his retreat, getting his position away from the boulders, getting out into the open of the plateau. Graham followed, not bothering to try to check the other man's flight; there would always be time for that later.

Then the man in black launched his greatest assault. It came with no warning and the speed and strength of it were terrifying. His blade flashed in the light again and again, and at first, Graham was only too delighted to retreat. He was not entirely familiar with the style of the attack; it was mostly McBone, but there were snatches of Capo Ferro thrown in, and he continued moving backward while he concentrated on the enemy, figuring the best way to stop the assault.

The man in black kept advancing, and Graham was aware that behind him now he was coming closer and closer to the edge of the Cliffs, but that could not have concerned him less. The important thing was to outthink the enemy, find his weakness, let him have his moment of exultation.

Suddenly, as the Cliffs came ever nearer, Graham realized the fault in the attack that was flashing at him; a simple Thibault maneuver would destroy it entirely, but he didn't want to give it away so soon. Let the other man have the triumph a moment longer; life allowed so few.

The Cliffs were very close behind him now. Graham continued to retreat; the man in black continued advancing.

Then Graham countered with the Thibault.

And the man in black blocked it.

He _blocked_ it!

Graham repeated the Thibault move and again it didn't work. He switched to Capo Ferro, he tried Bonetti, he went to Fabris; in desperation he began a move used only twice, by Sainct.

Nothing worked!

The man in black kept attacking.

And the Cliffs were almost there.

Graham never panicked – never came close. But he decided some things very quickly, because there was no time for long consultations, and what he decided was that although the man in black was slow in reacting to moves behind trees, and not much good at all amidst boulders, when movement was restricted, yet out in the open, where there was space, he was a terror. A left-handed black-masked terror.

"You are most excellent," Graham said. His rear foot was at the cliff edge. He could retreat no more.

"Thank you," the man in black replied. "I have worked very hard to become so."

"You are better than I am," Graham admitted.

"So it seems. But if that is true, then why are you smiling?"

"Because," Graham answered, "I know something you don't know."

"And what is that?" asked the man in black.

"I am not left-handed," Graham replied, and with those words, he all but threw his sword into his right hand, and the tide of battle turned.

The man in black retreated before the slashing of the great sword. He tried to sidestep, tried to parry, tried to somehow escape the doom that was now inevitable. But there was no way. He could block fifty thrusts; the fifty-first flicked through, and now his left arm was bleeding. He could thwart thirty ripostes, but not the thirty-first, and now his shoulder bled.

The wounds were not yet grave, but they kept on coming as they dodged across the stones, and then the man in black found himself amidst the trees and that was bad for him, so he all but fled before Graham's onslaught, and then he was in the open again, but Graham kept coming, nothing could stop him, and then the man in black was back among the boulders, and that was even worse for him than the trees and he shouted out in frustration and practically ran to where there was open space again.

But there was no dealing with the wizard, and slowly, again, the deadly Cliffs became a factor in the fight, only now it was the man in black who was being forced to doom. He was brave, and he was strong, and the cuts did not make him beg for mercy, and he showed no fear behind his black mask.

"You are amazing," the man in black cried, as Graham increased the already blinding speed of the blade.

"Thank you. It has not come without effort."

The death moment was at hand now. Again and again Graham thrust forward, and again and again the man in black managed to ward off the attacks, but each time it was harder, and the strength in Graham's wrists was endless and he only thrust the more fiercely and soon the man in black grew weak.

"You cannot tell it," he said then, "because I wear a cape and mask. But I am smiling now."

"Why"

"Because I am not left-handed either," said the man in black.

And he too switched hands, and now the battle was finally joined.

And Graham began to retreat.

"_Who are you_?" Graham screamed.

"No one of import. Another lover of the blade."

"I must know!"

"Get used to disappointment."

They flashed along the open plateau now, and the blades were both invisible, but oh, the earth trembled, and ohhh, the skies shook, and Graham was losing. He tried to make for the trees, but the man in black would have none of it. He tried retreating to the boulders, but that was denied him too.

And in the open, unthinkable as it was, the man in black was superior. Not much. But in a multitude of tiny ways, he was of a slightly higher quality. A hair quicker, a fraction stronger, a speck faster. Not really much at all.

But it was enough.

They met in center plateau for the final assault. Neither man conceded anything. The sound of metal clashing metal rose. A final burst of energy flew through Graham's veins and he made every attempt, tried every trick, used every hour of every day of his years of experience. But he was blocked. By the man in black. He was shackled. By the man in black. He was baffled, thwarted, muzzled.

Beaten.

By the man in black.

A final flick and the great sword went flying from his hand. Graham stood there, helpless. There he dropped to his knees, bowed his head, closed his eyes. "Do it quickly," he said.

"May my hands fall from my wrists before I kill an artist like yourself," said the man in black. "I would as soon destroy a stained glass window. However –" and here he clubbed Graham's head with the butt of his sword – "since I can't have you following me either, please understand that I hold you in the highest respect."

He struck one more time and the huntsman fell unconscious. The man in black quickly tied Graham's hands around a tree and left him there, for the moment, sleeping and helpless.

Then he sheathed his sword, picked up the King's trail, and raced into the night…

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**"proudlesbian: cant wait for the next chapter :)" Here it is! :) **

**"Zerousy: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG THEY"RE GONNA FIGHT! I can't wait to read it! I am too dang giddy right now even if I am extremely tired but I just can't help it. This story is awesome!" I hope you enjoyed the fight scene! :) **

**"Kari: Awww I feel so bad for Graham!:( But the backstory is really good for the story! So is Graham heartless? If he is then who has his heart? Any way, great update as usual!" I always imagined that the OUAT real Graham went through some kind of tragedy to hate humans so much and have to live with wolves. I wish we would have gotten more of his backstory :(To answer your question, yes Graham is heartless. The red-handed soldier has his heart... but you'll have to wait and see who exactly that is! ;) **

**"Clattering1: Funny what Deansmistress22 said - I feel like romantic pairings DID use to work out on television, and now they never do...is it cynicism or something? Why can't something ever be brought to fruition anymore and not be boring? Still love reading this though! Thanks for the backstory..." Well my personal opinion is that when we were younger, we didn't really pay that much attention to detail or the journey the characters had to go through. The best example I can think of for myself is Ross and Rachel from Friends lol. But a great quote from this book "Cynics are simply thwarted romantics." **

**"Dede42: I've figured out who was responsible for taking Ghram's heart and the wolves, but I won't say who. Up next: sword fight!" Shhhh! ;) That will be revealed in a hand full of chapters. I hope you enjoyed the sword fight! **

**"HookedOnCaptainSwan: Aw Graham. I miss him so much ),: I cant wait to see Killian in action in the next chapter! :)" I miss Graham so much too! As I was writing this chapter, I actually got really sad when I realized that Killian will never be able to meet Graham on the show. How awesome buds would they have been?! I hope you enjoyed them in action! :) **

**"Lisa1972: oh wow...I can't wait for the next chapter!" An oh wow! :) yay! **

**"Angie38: so i just had to go and buy the movie which ive seen dozens of times just never owned...great story much love" Fantastic purchase! Lol thank you :) **

**"deansmistress22: Readers like when writers answer us back! It's wonderful that you do that. :) To be honest, Graham was always the guy I wanted Emma to be with. I was so upset when they killed him off. But once they brought in Hook? He has to be the way to go. I love the anti-hero success story. I can NOT wait for the snark and banter! More soon!" I am so with you 100% there! I ****_loved _****Graham and Emma together and was completely devastated when they killed him off. I'm still not over it! But yes, Hook to the rescue to fill in the roll! And I love replying to you guys! I'm just so honored that you all have taken the time to read this story and tell me what you think! It's so overwhelming and I couldn't appreciate it more! :) **

**"captainswanproblems: This is my favorite story now! oh lord. Please update soon, I'm going to go into withdrawal." I've never been someone's favorite story before! :) I'm honored! **

**You guys are all so incredibly awesome! Thank you for all of your kind words, I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. :) **


	7. Chapter 7: The Giant

**Disclaimer: William Goldman and A&E own everything. Except Anton's back story. I hope you all enjoy it! :) **

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The King, Emma, and Anton were hurrying along a mountainous path on the way to King George's frontier. The path was narrow and strewn with rocks like cannonballs. Anton carried Emma lightly on his shoulders; she was still tied hand and foot. Anton's eyes reached far beyond the bottom of the mountain path, waiting to see the triumphant march of his dear friend Graham coming back to join them.

Instead, he saw the man in black running towards them.

"He has beaten Graham," Anton whispered, not quite sure he wanted to believe it, but positive nonetheless. He liked Graham; he was the only one who wouldn't laugh when Anton asked him to play rhymes.

"I didn't hear you, say it again," the King called out. "And this time don't mumble you buffoon."

Anton pointed, far down at the bottom of the mountain path at the man in black running towards them. "See? Graham is beaten."

"Inconceivable!" exploded the King.

Anton shook his head, "I'm so stupid. Graham has not lost to the man in black, he has _defeated _him. And to prove it he has put on all the man in black's clothes and masks and hoods and boots."

King George squinted down toward the running figure. "Fool," he hurled at the giant. "After all these years can't you tell Graham when you see him? That isn't Graham."

"I'll never learn," the giant blushed. "If there's ever a question about anything, you can count on me to get it wrong."

"Graham must have slipped or been tricked or otherwise unfairly beaten. That's the only conceivable explanation."

_Conceivable believable_, the giant thought. Only he didn't dare say it out loud. Not to the King. He might have whispered it to Graham late at night, but that was before Graham was dead. He also might have whispered heavable thievable weavable but that was as far as he got before the King started talking again, and that always meant he had to pay very strict attention. Nothing angered the King as quickly as catching Anton thinking. Since he barely imagined someone like Anton capable of thought, he never asked what was on his mind, because he couldn't have cared less. If he had found out Anton was making rhymes, he would have laughed and then found new ways to make Anton suffer.

Emma strained her head to look behind her, indeed the man in black loomed in the distance. A part of her felt a strange ache of sadness for Graham's death. Deep down, Emma believed that he was a good person, despite his company. It was his eyes that revealed his true kindness, she thought. But now, he was dead.

How much blood would fall on her hands by the time her own was spilt? And how many after, with war being born from her death?

"Untie her feet," the King commanded.

Anton put the Princess down and ripped the ropes apart that bound her legs. Then he rubbed her ankles so she could walk. Emma breathed a little easier knowing that her feet were now free, meaning she could use them as a defense or to run or something. But she wouldn't until they were away from the giant. She believed she had a fighting chance against the old man, even with her hands behind her back. But the giant she was no match for. So she would have to wait patiently for her moment of opportunity.

The King grabbed her immediately and yanked her away. "Catch up with us quickly," the King said.

"Instructions?" Anton called out, almost panicked. He hated being left on his own like this.

"Finish him, finish him! Succeed, since Graham failed us."

"But I can't fence. I don't know how to fence –"

"_Your _way!" the King could barely control his annoyance.

"Oh yes, good, my way, thank you, King George," Anton said to him. Then, summoning all his courage: "I need a hint."

"You're always saying how you understand force, how force belongs to you. Use it, I don't care how. Wait for him behind there" – he pointed to a sharp bend in the mountain path – "and crush his head like an eggshell." He pointed to the cannonball-sized rocks.

"I could do that, yes," Anton nodded. He was marvelous at throwing heavy things. "It just seems not very sportsmanlike, doesn't it?"

The King lost control. It was terrifying when he did it. With most people, they scream and holler and jump around. With George, it was different: he got very very quiet, and his voice sounded like it came from a dead throat. And his eyes turned to fire. "I tell you this and I tell it once: stop the man in black. Stop him for good and all. If you fail, there will be no excuses; I will find another giant."

"Please don't desert me," Anton pleaded.

"Then do as you are told." He grabbed hold of Emma again and moved quickly up the mountain path and out of sight.

Anton glanced down toward the figure racing up the path toward him. Still a good distance away. Time enough to practice. Anton picked up a rock the size of a cannonball and aimed at a crack in the mountain thirty yards away.

Swoosh.

Dead center.

He picked up a bigger rock and threw it at a shadow line twice as distant.

Not quite swoosh.

Two inches to the right.

Anton was reasonably satisfied. Two inches off would still crush a head if you aimed for the center. He groped around, found a perfect rock for throwing; it just fit his hand. Then he moved to the sharp turn in the path, backed off into deepest shadow. Unseen, silent, he waited patiently with his killing rock, counting the seconds until the man in black would die…

Anton's mind began to drift as he thought about how he had made it here.

Anton was a giant by blood, born in the world above the clouds with his fellow kind. As giants go, Anton was the smallest baby their race had ever seen, due to his blood only being _half _giant. His giant mother had climbed down the beanstalk to the human world against the laws restricting giants and humans to intermingle. But Anton's mother was curious of the humans and their customs.

She befriended a woman named Jack, who offered her a piece of cake she'd obtained in Wonderland that was supposed to make you shrink in size for a period of seven days. During her week of appearing human, she met a man in a tavern and fell in love with him. As the end of the week neared, his mother became desperate for a way to stay human so she could stay with her love. Jack told her that true love was supposed to produce powerful magic; powerful enough to grant any wish.

His mother revealed her love to the man and offered her undying devotion to him. He promised to meet her outside the tavern from which they met that night, and with their love they would run away together.

Fortune was not in her favor that night, as she waited by the tavern until the sun began to rise. But he never showed. And as she cried at his betrayal, she grew. Her tears turned into raindrops, raindrops into puddles, and puddles into ponds until a river sat in the shallows of her feat.

When she returned up the beanstalk to her fellow giants, her pregnancy was revealed.

At Anton's birth, her sin against her kind was revealed. Half giant, half human. Such a creature had never been created before.

As punishment for her crime, Anton and his mother were both cast out amongst the humans. A spell was cast upon her which shrunk her size. But Anton continued to grow.

By five years old he could look his mother in the eye, and all the other children made his life miserable. At first, naturally, they were scared to death (even then, Anton looked fierce) but once they found out he was chicken, well, they weren't about to let an opportunity like _that _get away.

"Bully, bully," they taunted Anton during morning break in the schools.

"I'm not," Anton would say out loud. To himself, he would go "Woolly, woolly." He would never dare to consider himself a poet, because he wasn't anything like that; he just loved rhymes. Anything you said out loud, he rhymed it inside. Sometimes the rhymes made sense, sometimes they didn't. Anton never cared much about sense; all that ever mattered was the sound.

The children would continue to mock him, calling him names such as coward and chicken. When he would argue, they would taunt him by pressuring him to fight. They would swing at him and hit him in the stomach, confident that he would take it and never hit back.

When he would go home to his mother, covered in bruises and red marks from the children beating him, she would dry his tears and shake her head. "Anton, this can't go on. They must stop picking on you."

_Kicking on you. _"I don't mind so much."

"Well you should. You are a giant, and you must be proud. That blood comes with force. I will teach you to use it."

"I don't want to hurt anybody."

"I don't _want _you to hurt anybody, Anton. But if you know how to take care of yourself, and they _know _you know, they won't bother you anymore."

As reluctant as he was, Anton learned how to make a fist and punch. Anton was very strong, and his mother decided that he should go into professional fighting.

And Anton was good. He was gaining betting money and fame. He was soon to fight his biggest challenger, accompanied with the largest crowed they'd yet to see.

His mother couldn't have been happier.

Anton had never been more miserable.

He was so scared and frightened and terrified, all rolled into one. No matter how she reassured him, he refused to enter the arena. Because he knew something: even though outside he looked twenty, and his mustache was already coming along nicely, inside he was still this nine-year-old who liked rhyming things.

"No," he said. "I won't, I won't, and you can't make me."

"After all I've slaved for these years," his mother said.

"He'll _hurt _me!"

"Life is full of pain! You might as well start getting used to it."

She pushed him into the ring, threatening to abandon him if he didn't fight.

His challenger lunged for him and Anton, almost instinctively, wrapped his arms around him in a bear hug. He lifted him up, and squeezed. The crowd grew quiet.

"That's enough now," his mother called out.

Anton laid the other man down. "Thank you," he said. "You are a wonderful fighter and I was lucky."

The ex-champion kind of grunted.

The crowd didn't cheer. Instead, they booed. As they did throughout the next few of years whenever he would beat his competitors. Wherever he went, whoever he beat – the crowed would never cheer.

When he was fifteen, his mother died. Anton would have died too, only naturally he never got sick. Alone, he continued on across the realm.

Eventually, he joined a traveling circus. All the other performers grumbled at him because, they said, he was eating more than his share of the food. So he stayed pretty much to himself except when it came to his work.

When he turned twenty, the booing grew loud again. The truth was simply this: he had gotten too strong. He would never measure himself, but everybody whispered he must be over seven feet tall, and he would never step on a scale, but people claimed he weighed four hundred. And not only that, he was quick now. He knew all the tricks, could counter all the holds.

The names coward and chicken were replaced with animal and ape.

At night, when he was alone in his tent, Anton would weep. He was a freak. (Speak – he still loved rhymes.) A two-eyed Cyclops. (Eye-drops – like the tears that were dropping now, dropping from his half-closed eyes.)

The circus fired him. And he was alone again, in the loneliest place in the world.

He was still sitting where the circus had once stood tall when King George found him. The King flattered him, promised to keep the boos away. He needed Anton. But not half as much as Anton needed the King. As long as the King was around, you couldn't be alone. Whatever the King said, Anton did. And if that meant crushing the head of the man in black…

So be it.

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**"Zerousy: YES I ENJOYED IT! I thoroughly enjoyed it XD I can't wait until the next chapter but I will! It's exciting. I can't wait until the man in black talks to Emma after all the fighting he's going to do with Anton and then outsmarting the King. This is just...FANTASTIC!" I'm so glad you liked it! Next chapter will be Anton vs man in black, then I think it'll take two more chapters before he gets to Emma. But I promise it'll come up quick!**

**"Kari: That was awesome! I love the banter! Can't wait for him to get to Emma( assuming this is killian)!" As I told Zerousy, I think it'll take two/three more chapters for the man in black to get to Emma! But I'll update quickly, promise! :) **

**"Dede42: Nothing like waking up to a new chapter and a amazing sword fight. :)" Thank you! :) **

**"Princess of Peas: So, good! Love this, makes me giggle and smile! Mixing of favorites! So, so good! "Now sleep well... And dream of large women."" Haha I will definitely add in that line next chapter cause I love it! **

**"Lisa1972: Oh that was intense! Loved it...although I didn't understand a word of the moves in fencing ;)" Oh don't worry, I don't either! That was straight out of the book! A lot of that chapter was because I just couldn't force myself to change any of that beautiful text. It's my favorite! I'm glad you enjoyed it! **

**"Guest: So this is without doubt the best fanfiction I have ever read! I grew up with the movie and loved it and all my friends said the book was horrible so I have yet to read it, but I feel like I have to now! This is really good and I can't wait for the next one!" If you like this fiction, you'll like the book because it's exactly the same set up! And thank you! :) **

**"So, I just read all 6 chapters and as a major fan of both the movie and the novel, I am completely in love with your Fanfiction already! Your writing is very fluent and lovely to read, I've sat back with tea and cookies and just read the whole way through! Yes, I'm incredibly British ;) But I cannot wait for you to update, I adore CS so much and look forward to more of this story! :) xx" Thank you so much! I try to stick close to the novel because it's just so incredibly beautiful that I can't bring myself to alter it. You know, besides the characters and all the little details lol. I'm so glad you're enjoying it though! I hope I keep your good faith :) **

**"HookedOnCaptainSwan: I loved this chapter! i agree with you ): I wish Killian and graham coulda met. They definitely woulda been good friends...until they both realized they liked emma hehehe, but still ): ugh graham come back to uuusss! I gotta be honest though, if graham stayed alive, i would be torn with who i want emma with, cause i adore her with both of them." I completely agree! At least Graham didn't die in this fiction! lol. **

**"Guest: I love graham and hook together! I was devaseted when they killed him off. This is one of my fave stories! Can't wait till next chapter!" I'm ****_still _****devastated that they killed him off! And thank you, I'm honored! :)**


	8. Chapter 8: The Mountain Path

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Enjoy :)**

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Anton watched as the man in black grew closer. He decided he would not ambush the man; he would not do this the coward's way. It was unsportsmanlike. His mother had taught him to go by the rules. Anton stood in the shadows, the great rock tight in his right hand. He could hear the footsteps of the man in black coming nearer. Nearer.

The giant leaped from hiding and threw the rock with incredible power and perfect accuracy. It smashed into a boulder a foot from the face of the man in black.

"I did that on purpose," Anton said then, picking up another rock, holding it ready. "I didn't have to miss."

"I believe you," the man in black said.

They stood facing each other on the narrow mountain path.

The man in black looked between the giant and his rock, "Now what happens?"

"We face each other as God intended," Anton said. "No tricks, no weapons, skill against skill alone."

"You mean you'll put down your rock and I'll put down my sword and we'll try to kill each other like civilized people, is that it?"

"If you'd rather, I can kill you now," Anton said gently, and he raised the rock to throw. "I'm giving you a chance."

The man in black began to take off his sword and scabbard, "So you are and I accept it. Although, frankly, I think the odds are slightly in your favor at hand fighting."

"I tell you what I tell everybody. I cannot help being the biggest and strongest; it's not my fault."

"I'm not blaming you," said the man in black.

"Let's get to it then," Anton said, and he dropped his rock and got into fighting position, watching as the man in black slowly moved toward him. For a moment, Anton felt almost wistful. This was clearly a good fellow, even if he had killed Graham. He didn't complain or try and beg or bribe. He just accepted his fate. Obviously a criminal of character.

_Was he a criminal though_, Anton wondered. Surely the mask would indicate that. Or was it worse than that: was he disfigured? His face burned away by acid perhaps? Or perhaps born hideous?

"Why do you wear a mask and hood?" Anton asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"I think everybody will in the near future" was the man in black's reply. "They're terribly comfortable."

They faced each other on the mountain path. There was a moment's pause. Then they engaged. Anton let the man in black fiddle around for a bit, tested the man's strength, which was considerable for someone who wasn't a giant. He let the man in black feint and dodge and try a hold here, a hold there. Then, when he was quite sure the man in black would not go to his maker embarrassed, Anton locked his arms tight around.

Anton lifted.

And squeezed.

And squeezed.

Then he took the remains of the man in black, snapped him one way, snapped him the other, cracked him with one hand in the neck, with the other at the spine base, locked his legs up, rolled his limp arms around them, and tossed the entire bundle of what had once been human into a nearby crevice.

That was the theory, anyway.

In fact, what happened was this:

Anton lifted.

And squeezed.

And the man in black slipped free.

_Hmmm_, Anton thought, _that certainly was a surprise. I thought for sure I had him. _

"You're very quick," Anton complimented.

"Ad a good thing, too," the man in black replied.

They engaged again. This time Anton did not give the man in black a chance to fiddle. He just grabbed him, swung him around his head once, twice, smashed his skull against the nearest boulder, pounded him, pummeled him, gave him a final squeeze for good measure and tossed the remains of what once had been alive into a nearby crevice.

Those were his intentions, anyway.

In actuality, he never even got through the grabbing part with much success. Because no sooner than Anton's great hands reached out than the man in black dropped and spun and twisted and was loose and free and still quite alive.

_I don't understand a thing that's happening, _Anton thought. _Could I be losing my strength? Could there be a mountain disease that takes your strength? That must be it, I have caught a plague, but if that is it, why isn't he weak? No, I must still be strong, it has to be something else, now what could it be? _

Suddenly he knew. He had not fought against one man in so long he had all but forgotten how. He had been fighting groups and gangs and bunches for so many years the idea of having but a single opponent was slow in making itself known to him. Because you fought them entirely different. When there were twelve against you, you made certain moves, tried certain holds, acted in certain ways. When there was but one, you had to completely readjust yourself. Quickly now, Anton went back through time. How had he fought that first major champion? He flashed though that fight in his mind, then reminded himself of all the other victories against other champions from different kingdoms. Of course. And suddenly he readjusted his style to what it once had been.

But by that time the man in black had him by the throat!

The man in black was riding him, and his arms were locked across Anton's windpipe, one in front, one behind. Anton reached back but the man in black was hard to grasp. Anton could not get his arms around to his back and dislodge the enemy. Anton ran at a boulder and, at the last moment, spun around so that the man in black received the main force of the charge. It was a terrible jolt; Anton knew it was.

But the grip on his windpipe grew ever tighter.

Anton charged the boulder again, again, spun, and again he knew the power of the blow the man in black had taken. But still the grip remained. Anton clawed at the man in black's arms. He pounded his giant fists against them.

By now he had no air.

Anton continued to struggle. He could feel a hollowness in his legs now; he could see the world beginning to pale. But he did not give up. He was the mighty Anton, lover of rhymes, and you did not give up, no matter what. Now the hollowness was in his arms and the world was snowing.

Anton went to his knees.

He pounded still, but feebly. He fought still, but his blows would not have harmed a child. No air. There was no more air. There was no more anything, not for Anton, not in this world. _I am beaten, I am going to die, _he thought just before he fell onto the mountain path.

He was only half wrong.

There is an instant between unconsciousness and death, and as the giant pitched onto the rocky path, that instant happened, and just before it happened, the man in black let go. He staggered to his feet and leaned against a boulder until he could walk. Anton lay sprawled, faintly breathing.

"I do not envy the headache you will have when you awake. But for now, rest well and dream of large women," the man in black said to the unconscious giant.

He looked around for a rope to secure the giant, gave up the search almost as soon as he'd begun. What good were ropes against strength like this? He would simply snap them. The man in black made his way back to where he'd dropped his sword. He put it back on.

Two down and (the hardest) one to go…

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**"Zerousy: Anton's backstory was sad! I feel bad for him." I know! I was sad while I wrote it lol. **

**"somewhatdelirious: OMG I just love this sooooo much! Wow I love this book and CS and everything and I'm just flabbergasted by your work. Fantastic, keep writing!" Thank you! :) **

**"Maiqu: This is wonderful! Can't wait for the rest.. Especially the battle of wits and the fire swamp" Coming up next!**

**"Kari: Awesome update! Cant wait for the next chapter!" Thank you! **

**"Dede42: I enjoyed the backstory and the reference to the rhyming and Anton is one of my favorite characters from OUAT. Update soon! :D" I love Anton in the show and I hope we see more of him in the future when the gang gets back to Storybrooke! **

**"Lisa1972: this is excellent :) How much longer before we know for sure the man in black is her Killian? :)" In the next, next chapter (I think) we'll get to find out who the man in black really is! **

**"captainswanproblems: Beautiful! Love how the man in black doesn't kill Graham. :) You're an amazing writer, and this is an amazing story! Keep it up, and update soon." Even if Inigo died in the story, there's no way I would be able to kill Graham off! I wouldn't have even let Regina do it if I had the power!**


	9. Chapter 9: The Battle of Wits

**Disclaimer: I've gone back and changed a small bit from the 3rd chapter in regards to King George's heir. Before it mentioned that he didn't have one, but I've changed it so that now he does. I didn't want any of the magnificent readers who have been following the story so far to be confused by this sudden, small change. Also, I've taken the liberty of changing the poison of the dream shade and turned it into a powder. Everything else doesn't belong to me! I hope you enjoy :)**

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As soon as Emma and King George were a good distance from the mountain path and away from Anton, Emma made her move.

Or at least, she tried. She shrugged away from the King's grip and kicked him in the leg.

George groaned and bent down to cradle his leg, and Emma took this moment to make a break for it.

Emma was fast, but so was George and he had his hands. He threw a large rock at Emma's back, causing her to trip over the hem of her dress and fall forward. The King pulled out his sword and held it to Emma's back.

"Up," he commanded.

Emma, painfully, turned around to her back and sat up. "You are an evil, pathetic man."

"I've been called worse. Now _up_."

He reached down and forcefully pulled her off the ground. He slapped her already cut and bruised face, leaving another red mark. Keeping the knife to her back, they continued to walk.

He must have anticipated that the giant had failed, because he stopped at a rather flat rock and instructed Emma to sit.

That's when he did something that completely threw Emma off.

He set up a picnic.

From the knapsack that he carried, he had taken a small handkerchief and on it he placed two wine goblets. In the center was a small leather wine holder and, beside it, some cheese and some apples. The spot could not have been lovelier: a high point of the mountain path with a splendid view all the way back to the ocean.

That's when the King blindfolded Emma and threatened her not to speak, now holding the sword to her throat.

"Welcome," George called when the man in black was almost upon them.

The man in black stopped and surveyed the situation, his eyes lingering on the sword at Emma's throat.

"You've beaten my giant," George said.

"It would seem so."

"And now it is down to you. And it is down to me."

"So that would seem too," the man in black said, edging just a half-step closer to the King's long sword.

With a smile the King pushed the knife harder against Emma's throat. It was about to bring blood. "If you wish her dead, by all means keep moving."

The man in black froze.

"Better," George nodded.

No sound now beneath the moonlight.

"I understand completely what you are trying to do," the King said finally, "and I want it quite clear that I resent your behavior. You are trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen, and I think it quite ungentlemanly."

"Let me explain –" the man in black began, starting to edge forward.

"_You're killing her!" _the King screamed, shoving harder with the sword. A drop of blood appeared now at Emma's throat, red against white.

The man in black retreated. "Let me explain," he said again, but from a distance.

Again the King interrupted. "There is nothing you can tell me I do not already know. I am a very smart man, a student of some of the very best teachers. I predict the truth using logic and wisdom, and I say you are a kidnapper, admit it."

"I will admit that, as a ransom item, she has value; nothing more."

"I have been appointed to do certain things to her. It is very important that I follow my instructions. If I do this properly, I will find my war and my victory. And my instructions do not include ransom, they include death. So your explanations are meaningless; we cannot do business together. You wish to keep her alive for ransom, whereas it is terribly important to me that she stop breathing in the very near future."

"Has it occurred to you that I have gone to great effort and expense, as well as personal sacrifice, to reach this point," the man in black replied. "And that if I fail now, I might get very angry. And if she stops breathing in the very near future, it is entirely possibly that you will catch the same fatal illness?"

"I have no doubt you could kill me. Any man who can get by Graham and Anton would have no trouble disposing of me. However, has it occurred to you that if you did that, then neither of us would get what we want – you having lost your ransom item, me my life."

"We are at an impasse then," said the man in black.

"I fear so," said the King. "I cannot compete with you physically, and you are no match for my brains."

"You are that smart?"

"There are no words to contain all my wisdom. I am so cunning, crafty and clever, so filled with deceit, guile and chicanery, such a knave, so shrewd, cagey as well as calculating, as diabolical as I am vulpine, as tricky as I am untrustworthy… well, I told you there were not words invented yet to explain how great my brain is, but let me put it this way: the realm is several million years old and several billion people have at one time or another trod upon it, but I, King George, am, speaking with pure candor and modesty, the slickest, sleekest, sliest and wiliest fellow who has yet come down the pike."

"At least you're modest," the man in black smirked. "In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits."

George had to smile. "For the Princess?"

The man in black shook his head.

"To the death?"

"Correct again."

"I accept," cried George. "Begin the battle!"

If Emma hadn't been blindfolded, the men would have been able to see her rolling her eyes.

"Pour the wine," said the man in black.

George filled the two goblets with deep-red liquid.

The man in black pulled from his dark clothing a small packet and handed it to the King. "Open it and inhale, but be careful not to touch."

George took the packet and followed instructions. "I smell nothing."

The man in black took the packet again. "What you do not smell is called dream shade powder. It is odorless, tasteless and dissolves immediately in any kind of liquid. It also happens to be the deadliest poison known to man."

George began to get excited.

"I don't suppose you'd hand me the goblets," said the man in black.

George shook his head. "Take them yourself. My sword does not leave her throat."

The man in black reached down for the goblets. He took them and turned away.

George cackled aloud in anticipation.

The man in black busied himself a long moment. Then he turned again with the goblet in each hand. Very carefully, he put the goblet in his right hand in front of George and put the goblet in his left hand across the kerchief from the King. He sat down in front of the left-hand goblet, and dropped the empty dream shade packet by the cheese.

"Your guess," he said. "Where is the poison?"

"_Guess_?" George cried. "I don't guess. I think. I ponder. I deduce. Then I decide. But I never guess."

"The battle of wits has begun," said the man in black. "It ends when you decide and we drink the wine and find out who is right and who is dead. We both drink, need I add, and swallow, naturally, at precisely the same time."

"It's all so simple," said the King. "All I have to do is deduce, from what I know of you, the way your mind works. Are you the kind of man who would put the poison into his own glass, or into the glass of his enemy?"

"You're stalling," said the man in black.

"I'm relishing is what I'm doing," answered the King. "No one has challenged my mind in years, and I love it… by the way, may I smell both goblets?"

"Be my guest. Just be sure you put them down the same way you found them."

The King sniffed his own glass; then he reached across the kerchief for the goblet of the man in black and sniffed that. "As you said, odorless."

"As I also said, you're stalling."

The King smiled and stared at the wine goblets. "Now a great fool," he began, "would place the poison in his own goblet, because he would know that only another great fool would reach first for what he was given. I am clearly not a great fool, so I will clearly not reach for your wine."

"That's your final choice?"

"No. Because you knew I was not a great fool, so you would know that I would never fall for such a trick. You would count on it. So I will clearly not reach for mine either."

"Keep going."

"I intend to." The King reflected a moment. "We have now decided the poisoned cup is most likely in front of you. But the poison is powder made from dream shade and dream shade comes only from Neverland and Neverland, as everyone knows, is a place where nothing is as it seems and peopled with reckless boys who never do as they're told. And people who don't do what they're told are used to having people not trust them, as I don't trust you, which means I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you."

The man in black was starting to get nervous.

"But, again, you must have suspected I knew the origins of the dream shade, so you would have known I knew about the Neverland behavior, and therefore I can clearly not chose the wine in front of me."

"Truly you have a dizzying intellect," whispered the man in black.

"You have beaten my giant, which means you are exceptionally strong, and exceptionally strong men are convinced that they are too powerful ever to die, too powerful even for dream shade poison, so you could have put it in your cup, trusting on your strength to save you; thus I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you."

The man in black was very nervous now.

"But you also bested my huntsman, which means you must have studied, because he studied many years for his excellence, and if you can study, you are clearly more than simply strong; you are aware of how mortal we all are, and you do not wish to die, so you would have kept the poison as far from yourself as possible; therefore I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You're just trying to make me give something away with all this chatter," said the man in black angrily. "Well it won't work. You'll learn nothing from me, that I promise you."

"I have already learned everything from you," said the King. "I know where the poison is."

"Only a genius could have deduced as much."

"How fortunate for me that I happen to be one," said George, growing more and more amused now.

"You cannot frighten me," said the man in black, but there was fear all through his voice.

"Shall we drink then?"

"Pick, choose, quit dragging it out, you don't know, you couldn't know."

The King only smiled at the outburst. Then a strange look crossed his features and he pointed off behind the man in black. "What in the world can that be?"

The man in black turned and looked. "I don't see anything."

"Oh, well, I could have sworn I saw something, no matter." The King began to laugh.

"I don't understand what's so funny," said the man in black.

"Tell you in a minute," George said. "But first let's drink, you from your glass and me from mine."

And he picked up his own wine goblet.

The man in black picked up the one in front of him.

They drank.

"You guessed wrong," said the man in black.

"You only _think _I guessed wrong," said the King, his laughter ringing louder. "That's what's so funny! I switched the glasses when your back was turned."

There was nothing for the man in black to say.

"Fool!" cried the King. "You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is 'Never get involved in a land war in Agrabah,' but only slightly less well known is this: 'Never go against a King when death is on the line.'"

He was quite cheery until the dream shade powder took effect.

The man in black stepped quickly over the corpse, then roughly ripped the blindfold from the Princess's eyes.

"I heard everything that happ—" Emma began, and then she said "Oh" because she hadn't expected it to be the King's body lying dead on the ground. "You killed him," she whispered finally.

"I let him die laughing," said the man in black. "Pray I do as much for you." He lifted her, slashing her bonds away, putting her on her feet.

"You've killed King George. His son will take the crown and in his vengeance will siege war against my kingdom."

The man in black took a moment to inspect her busted lip, bruised eye, and red cheek as he used his fingers to lift her chin. "You mean Prince James? He cares not for war, only sleeping around with his mistresses. Or so the rumors go." He pushed her face out of his hand and his cold expression returned.

Emma scolded at him, exhaling deeply. She rubbed her wrists, thankful to be rid of the ropes biting into her flesh. She took a final look at the King. "To think," she murmured, "all that time it was your cup that was poisoned."

"They were both poisoned," said the man in black. "I've spent a great deal of time building up immunity to dream shade powder.

Emma looked up at him, and a wave of contradiction washed over her. He was terrifying to her, mask and hooded and dangerous; his voice was strained, rough. He had just killed three people, two of which she had grown to not mind. And yet, she wasn't terrified of him. The way he had inspected her beaten face had been telling, and she suspected something deeper lay beneath his cold gaze. Plus, she was confident that if she could disarm him, she could beat him.

"Who are you?" she finally asked when she felt she'd been staring too long.

"I am no one to be trifled with," replied the man in black. "That is all you ever need to know." And with that he yanked her upright. "You've had your moment of rest." And he pulled her after him, and this time she could do nothing but follow.

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**"Zerousy: Oh boy, did this chapter popping up in my inbox cheer me up after having a minor freak out attack over a take home test. I totally liked how it flowed so easily. I hope the next bit King George gets a good ol' taste of poison! lol" Well, I hope this extra chapter will make you feel even better! :) and I hope you like it! **

**"Maiqu: This is amazing! Aww anton" It's ok! He's not dead... just dreaming of large women! ;) **


	10. Chapter 10: The Truth

**Disclaimer: The chapter you've all been waiting for! I don't own anything. Enjoy! :)**

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"You're not going to kill me," Emma said bluntly. The man in black stopped their pace and turned to face Emma. "You did not steal me from murders to murder me yourself. Just take me to my kingdom and whatever you want for ransom, I promise I'll get it for you. Just let me go." The man in black just laughed. "I was not speaking in jest!"

"You promise? _You? _I should release you on _your _promise? What is that worth? The vow of a woman? Oh, that is very funny, princess. Spoken in jest or not."

"So where are you taking me then?"

"Surely even someone as arrogant as you cannot expect me to give an answer."

Emma scoffed, "It doesn't matter if you tell me or not. No matter what happens, he will find you."

The man rose his eye brow, "_He_, highness?"

"Prince Baelfire. There is no greater hunter. He can track a falcon on a cloudy day; he can find you."

"You have confidence that your dearest love will save you, do you?"

"I never said he was my dearest love, and whether or not he saves me doesn't diminish the fact that he will find you." Emma looked back and noticed the man in black hadn't picked up King George's sword. Only a few feet away, Emma planned her move.

In a flash, Emma pulled forcefully and quickly out of the man's grip. Surprised, the man in black let go before he realized what this meant. Free from his hold, she pulled up her dress and raced to the corpse and picked up the blade that had just been at her throat. She held it up in a defensive fashion, ready to engage.

The man in black chuckled.

He was actually laughing at her as if she were some damsel in distress holding a toothpick.

"You cannot be serious," he taunted her. "I just beat three men in a row. One of them being the greatest swordsman I've ever seen. Do you _really _think you stand much of a chance, _princess_?"

She studied him. His expression was cold and haunting, but rehearsed. As if he'd stared down the face of danger on a daily occurrence. She tried to piece together what she knew of him: He was an experienced sailor with the speed and skill he used to catch up with them on the water. He was strong and persistent enough climb the Cliffs. He was a champion swordsman to have beaten the greatest. He was agile and brave enough to take down the great giant. He was smart enough to fool the wise King. He was driven enough by the idea of treasure and his desire to own her. And he was stupid enough to take all of this on alone, just to hold a simple princess for ransom.

"I know who you are," she simply whispered.

If Emma's eyes weren't seeing red, she would have noticed light in his eyes brightening just slightly.

"Your cruelty reveals everything. You're the Dread Pirate Captain Hook." The light turned cold again. "Admit it."

The man in black dramatically bowed, spreading his arms to his side. "With pride. What can I do for you?"

She held the sword with a firm grip, "You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. That's hardly complementary, your highness. Why loose your venom on me?"

"You killed someone very dear to me," she spat back.

He shrugged, "It's possible. I kill a lot of people."

And with that, she lunged. Emma had never held a blade with the intent to harm, but now she was recalling from all of those lessons her father had taught her and standing strong against the pirate.

Surprised, he jumped just out of her reach, the tip of her blade barely catching on his shirt.

"You don't want to do this," he warned. "You're not a fighter. Have you ever taken the life from someone before?"

She lunged again, ignoring his words. She took another swing, but this time his blade clashed against hers.

Finally, they had engaged.

"So you admit you do not love your husband-to-be?" he asked. She began to push him backwards, beginning to move down the steep hill. "Fancy. An honest woman. You're a rare specimen, princess."

"The Prince and I have never from the beginning lied to each other." _Clash, clash. _"He knows I do not love him."

"You are not capable of love, is what you mean," he replied, speeding up his attacks slightly.

But Emma was quick to keep up. "I'm very capable of love."

"Hold your tongue, I think." _Clash, clash_.

She moved in strong, brought the swords together tight as she leaned into her attack. "I have loved more deeply than a killer like you can possibly imagine."

He, rather forcefully, lunged at her. She met his blade and pushed back against him. They continued down the mountain side. "May I please tell you something, princess? You're very cold. Very cold and very young, and if you live, I think you'll turn to hoarfrost –"

"_Why do you pick at me?_" she shouted over the metal slashing. Her arms were growing tired but her adrenaline wouldn't let her slow down. "I have come to terms with my life, and that is my affair – I'm not cold, I swear, but I have decided certain things. It is best for me to ignore emotion; I have not been happy dealing with it –" Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high. "I loved once," Emma said a little softer. "It worked out badly."

"Another prince like this one?" the man in black asked. "Ugly, rich, boring? Did he leave you for a richer woman?"

Emma lunged harder, pushing him backwards evermore. The bottom of the mountain was coming up quickly, and Emma would soon lose her advantage of being on higher ground than the man in black.

"No," she replied. "A stable boy. Poor. Poor and perfect. Poor and it killed him. On the high seas, your ship attacked. And the Dread Pirate Captain Hook never takes prisoners."

"I can't afford to make exceptions," he jested. "I mean once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft people begin to disobey you and then it's nothing but work, work, work all the time." _Clash, clash_. "Were you sorry?" he asked bitterly. "Did you feel pain? Admit that you felt nothing –"

"Do not mock my pain!"

"Life _is _pain, princess! Anyone who says differently is selling something!" _Clash, clash. _"I think I remember this stable boy of yours. He died well, if that makes you feel any better. That should please you. No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said, 'Please… please, I need to live.' It was the 'please' that caught my memory. I asked him what was so important for him here. 'True love,' he replied. And then he spoke of a girl of surpassing beauty and faithfulness. I can only assume he meant _you_. You should bless me for destroying him before he found out what you really are."

"And what am I?" she shouted.

He scoffed, "Faithfulness he talked of, princess, your enduring faithfulness. Now tell me truly, when you found out he was gone, did you engage to your prince at the same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?"

"You mocked me once, never do it again! _I died that day!" _And with that he paused slightly. Just a half a second. But long enough for her to lunge quickly and cause him to stumble, dropping his sword down just an inch. But it was an inch of fortune as she still had the higher ground, and she swung.

_Thud_.

She had never thrown a punch that hard before, and it brought him to his back. She acted fast, kicking the sword out of his hand and putting her own blade to his throat.

"You can die too for all I care."

The man in black looked to the sword, then back to Emma, breathing deeper from the wind being knocked out of him. He only whispered, closing his eyes. "As you wish."

Emma's body stiffened, but she held her blade steady. Her mouth dropped as she searched his eyes for his meaning.

The man in black reached upward to remove his mask and hood.

"Oh, my sweet Killian," she whispered, dropping the sword to her side. Her legs failed her as she collapsed to her knees.

First she touched his face, needing to make sure that he was indeed real. His eyes were the bright blue that she remembered, and she scolded herself for not recognizing them sooner. He had aged, through years and hardship. His jaw line was sharper, his stubble was thicker, his hair was shorter and styled differently, he was stronger, and she noticed a small scar on his cheek that wasn't there before. But he was still the most beautiful creature she had ever laid her eyes on.

Then she threw herself into his arms, and he accepted her with a warm embrace. She took in his scent: salt water and rum. She ran her fingers through the back of his black hair. She felt tears beginning to pool in the corners of her eyes. They held each other for what felt like an eternity.

He then pulled away from her enough to face her and she noticed his eyes were also glossy, "I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Well," she exhaled deeply. "You were dead."

He chuckled, "Death cannot stop True Love. All it can do is delay it for a while."

She smiled, "I will never doubt again."

"There will never be a need," he smiled back.

Emma tugged him by the lapels on his shirt and pulled him to her, kissing him with enough force and passion to make up for the years lost. He responded by wrapping her hair between his fingers and pulling her closer. She had never tasted anything sweeter than his lips. Her truest love, back from the grave. And in that moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

Not her being a princess, not him being a pirate, not how dirty and swore they both were. Not even Prince Baelfire, who was a lot closer than they had predicted.

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**"proudlesbian: i cant wait until the next chapter and i cant wait read emma reaction when she finds out that hook is really killian" I hope you enjoyed it! **

**"Zerousy: Yes, this did make me feel better :) 2 chapters just hours apart? How lucky could I have been? I love it! I can't wait until the next chapter because I'd love to read about her hitting him so hard he falls down a hill lol. Or whatever you plan to put in it." I got in the writing mood that night! Lol it's not exactly like the original, but I wanted to make Emma a little more badass. Because she is! **

**"Dede42: Back to back chapters again! Nice! And more fun to come!" I hope you enjoy!**

**"Lisa1972: holy bejesus! These last two chapters were excellent :)" Thank you! **

**"Maiqu: I know I've seen this movie many times over... Can't wait for the reveal" I hope it was worth it! **

**"ByrintheBookWookie" Your reviews had me giddy as I received them! (Ch 3) Neal isn't ****_exactly _****like Humperdink. I just couldn't do that to him! Think of Rumple in his place for this story... ****_hint hint_**** lol. And yeah, I couldn't see jeans fitting in very well in the Enchanted Forest! Lol. (Ch 4) I love Graham too, and I just couldn't resist adding him in the story! And thank you :) (Ch 5) To be honest, when I first watched The Heart of the Lonely Hunter and he talked about his family and stuff, something along this line is what I always imagined had happened to him. Or something maybe Archie's back story related where his parents were just nasty. And this story tends to, as you said, be more tragic and make you feel more sorry for him. Which, in turn, makes them more attractive lol. (Ch 6) There ****_might _****be a few more Gremma moments in the future... but more as a sweet, friendship. Because Emma's heart belongs to Killian! And I don't know what I would have done if they had kept Graham and brought in Killian. That would have surely destroyed me lol. I'm so happy you're enjoying the story and I love reading your reviews! **

**"deansmistress22: Well I've missed a few days. haha I come back to find three updates? WOAH! You are amazing! :) These are great. I loved each of them. I can't wait for the Emma/Killian bits! I need the snark! Super excited to see your next chapter. I love the little tie ins. Can't wait for the classic personalities to shine through in the next few chapters." More Emma/Killian bits on the way! :) **

**"BeforeTheStorm15: Finally, the reunion! I adore how you are writing this, the perfect balance of action, a little romance and funny moments, cannot wait for the next chapter! x" Thank you! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! **

**"somewhatdelirious: (Ch 8) Wow! It's really amazing how you reply to every review you get. Love the story, by the way! (Ch 9) I actually love this. I hope the man in black is who I think he is." I ****_love _****getting reviews and replying to them! I've gotten so much support for this story it's overwhelming. I'm just so glad people are enjoying it! And thank you! I hope he was who you thought he was ;) **

**"AudeatadSomnia: This chapter was stunning and I really can't wait for the next one! You are a splendid writer and I find myself checking the status of this lovely fic almost all the time. I even re-watched the film last night before going to bed, and, naturally, there are a lot of similarities. I even noticed that in the fight scene between Inigo and Westly, they mention the different fighting styles for fencing. Which I didn't pick up on before reading this. Great job and update soon! :)" Thank you so much! I, like probably everyone else, saw the movie before I read the book. And of course fell in love with it. So when I read the book, I was really excited to learn that the author of the book was the screen writer for the movie. So a lot of the script was verbatim and the general idea. Which is why the book and movie are so similar... which makes me love them both even more! Lol. And the same thing happened to me with noticing the sword fighting terms! **


	11. Chapter 11: The Hunt

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter update! There will probably be another chapter posted later tonight, in an effort to make up for my absence! To all those reading who live in the States (since I sometimes forget that I have amazing readers from all over lol), have a lovely Thanksgiving holiday! :) Enjoy!**

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Killian had spotted the Armada long before they began their swordfight at the top of the mountain. The waters of the ocean seemed filled with light as the sky was filled with stars. Killian calculated that the Prince must have ordered every ship in his kingdom, and he began to wonder if King Charming was out there somewhere. Surely, if David and Snow suspected their daughter was kidnapped, they wouldn't be letting the Dark One's son travel out alone to look for her. As long as he had known the Charmings, family was always the most important thing in the realm. But, even in the darkness, Killian could only spot the sails of the Dark Kingdom. Finally he understood: the Charmings didn't know. Prince Baelfire and King Rumplestilskin must be keeping her abduction a secret until they retrieve her back. Killian wondered why. Both Snow and David were excellent trackers and hunters themselves, surely they would be of some use to the rescue. Maybe the Dark One felt there was a risk of their treaty if they found out their princess was gone. Killian began to wonder how the great Prince's hunt was going.

From his position at the point of the Armada, Prince Baelfire stared up at the Cliffs of Insanity. This was just like any other hunt. He made himself think away the quarry. It did not matter if you were after an antelope or a bride-to-be; the procedures held. You gathered evidence. Then you acted. You studied, then you preformed. If you studied too little, the chances were strong that your actions would also be too late. You had to take time. And so, frozen in thought, he continued to stare up the sheer face of the Cliffs.

Obviously, someone had recently climbed them. There were foot scratchings all the way up a straight line, which meant, most certainly, a rope, an arm-over-arm climb up a thousand-foot rope with occasional foot kicks for balance. To make such a climb required both strength and planning, so the Prince made those marks in his brain: my enemy is strong; my enemy is not impulsive.

Now his eyes reached a point perhaps three hundred feet from the top. Here it began to get interesting. Now the foot scratchings were deeper, more frequent, and they followed no direct ascending line. Either someone left the rope three hundred feet from the top intentionally, which made no sense, or the rope was cut while that someone was still three hundred feet from safety. For clearly, this last part of the climb was made up of the rock face itself. But who had such talent? And why had he been called to exercise it at such a deadly time, seven hundred feet above disaster?

"I must examine the tops of the Cliffs of Insanity," the Prince said, without bothering to turn.

From behind him, Countess Regina only said, "Done," and pulled off her black glove. Underneath, her hand was red – and as she waved it, her hand began to glow. A purple fog surrounded the pair, and suddenly they were off the ship and on the tops of the Cliffs.

Prince Baelfire looked back down to his fleet. "Send half the Armada south along the coastline, the other north. They should meet by twilight near the Fire Swamp. Bring your soldiers with us on the white horses." Regina lifted up her hand – "Uh, don't just poof them to the Swamp. Go back down there and tell them my instructions and then poof your soldiers and horses up here, would you? And when you and your men get back, _do not _trample the crime scene. Poof back over there or something, just make sure you are out of my way."

Regina rolled her eyes and waved her hand, disappearing.

Baelfire went to his knees, commenced his study of the terrain. There had been a rope tied around a giant oak. The bark at the base was broken and scraped, so probably whoever first reached the top untied the rope and whoever was on the rope at that moment was three hundred feet from the peak and somehow survived the climb.

A great jumble of footprints caused him trouble. It was hard to ascertain what had gone on. Perhaps a conference, because two sets of footprints seemed to lead off while one remained pacing the cliff edge. Then there were two on the cliff edge. Baelfire examined the prints until he was certain of two things: (1) a fencing match had taken place, (2) the combatants were both masters. The stride length, the quickness of the foot feints, all clearly revealed to his unfailing eye, made him reassess his second conclusion. They were both at least masters. Probably better.

Then he closed his eyes and concentrated on smelling out the blood. Surely, in a match of such ferocity, blood must have been spilled. Now it was a matter of giving his entire body over to his sense of smell. The Prince had worked at this for many years, ever since a wounded tigress had surprised him from a tree limb while he was tracking her. He had let his eyes follow the blood hunt then, and it almost killed him. Now he trusted only his olfactories. If there was blood within a hundred yards, he would find it.

He opened his eyes, moved without hesitation toward a group of large boulders until he found the blood drops. There were few of them, and they were dry. But less than three hours old. Baelfire smiled. When you had the white horses under you, three hours was a finger snap.

He retraced the duel then, for it confused him. It seemed to range from cliff edge and back, then return to the cliff edge. And sometimes the left foot seemed to be leading, sometimes the right, which made no logical sense at all. Clearly swordsmen were changing hands, but why would a master do that unless his good arm was wounded to the point of uselessness, and that clearly had not happened, because a wound of that depth would have left blood spoors and there was simply not enough blood in the area to indicate that.

Strange, strange. Baelfire continued his wanderings. Stranger still, the battle could not have ended in death. He knelt by the outline of a body. Clearly, a man had lain unconscious here. But again, no blood.

"There was a mighty duel," Prince Baelfire said, directing his comment towards Regina, who had gathered her soldiers and horses and were standing off to the side. "My guess would be…" And for a moment the Prince paused, following footsteps. "Would be that whoever fell here, ran off there," and he pointed one way, "and that whoever was the victor ran off along the mountain path in almost precisely the opposite direction. It is also my opinion that the victor was following the path taken by the Princess."

"Shall we follow them both?" Regina asked.

"I think not," Prince Baelfire replied. "Whoever is gone is of minimal importance, since whoever has the Princess is the whoever we're after. And because we don't know the nature of the trap we might be being led into, we need all the arms we have in one band. Clearly, this has been planned by countrymen of King George's kingdom, and nothing must ever be put past them."

"You think this is a trap, then?"

"I always think everything is a trap until proven otherwise," the Prince answered. "Which is why I'm still alive."

Regina exhaled deeply. "You know, we would have found them already if you let me use my magic –"

"And miss the hunt of a lifetime?!" Baelfire exclaimed. "Not a chance."

"Even at the risk of the Princess's safety?" Regina rose a maleficent eye brow. "What will the Charmings think if they find out that their daughter was kidnapped and you were too inebriated with the hunt and the chase to take all measures possible to find the Princess?"

Baelfire cleared his throat, "Well, that's why they don't know yet. Magic comes with a price, everyone knows that. Including the Charmings. They will understand my apprehension to use it when searching for their daughter. Enough. You are wasting time by asking me trivial nonsense. Let us ride on."

And so they did, reaching the mountain path where the hand fight happened. The Prince did not even bother dismounting. Everything that could be seen was quite visible from horseback.

"Someone has beaten a giant," he said, when Regina was close enough. "The giant has run away, do you see?"

Regina, of course, saw nothing but rock and mountain path. "I would not think to doubt you."

"And look there!" cried the Prince, because now he saw, for the first time, in the rubble of the mountain path, the footsteps of a woman. "The Princess is alive!"

And again the horses were thundering across the mountain.

When Regina caught up with him again, the Prince was kneeling over a still body of King George. Regina dismounted. "Smell this," the Prince said, and he handed up the goblet.

"Nothing," Regina said. "No odor at all."

"Dream shade," the Prince replied. "I would bet my life on it. I know of nothing else that kills so silently." He stood up then. "The Princess was still alive; her footprints follow the path."

"What are we going to do about King George?" Regina asked, inspecting the corpse. "We know that the King is involved in the kidnapping – or maybe he was the one trying to rescue her?"

Baelfire shook his head. "Father is positive he is the one who kidnapped her. His fabric was on Emma's horse when it reached the kingdom. Father believes this was an act of war – one that Prince James will have to answer now that he is King."

"Should we send a messenger to the kingdom and let them know their King has fallen?" Regina asked, ready to pull off her glove.

Baelfire shook his head. "They will come looking for him eventually. If we report it, it will appear as if we are the ones who killed him, seeing as we have no proof otherwise. We will continue on our hunt and leave King George's matters to his own kingdom. But I tell you this, Regina, if we end this hunt with the lifeless body of the Princess, there will be great suffering in his kingdom!"

On foot now, he ran along the mountain path, following the footsteps that he alone could see. And when those footsteps left the path for wilder terrain, he followed still. Strung out behind him, Regina and all the soldiers did their best to keep up. Men stumbled, horses fell, even Regina tripped from time to time. Baelfire never broke stride. He ran steadily, mechanically, his legs pumping like a metronome.

It was two hours after dawn when he reached the steep ravine.

"Odd," he said to Regina, who was tiring badly.

Regina continued only to breathe deeply.

"Two bodies fell to the bottom, and they did not come back up."

"That is odd," Regina managed.

"No, _that _isn't what's odd," the Prince corrected. "Clearly, the kidnapper did not come back up because the climb was too steep, and our cannons must have let him know that they were closely pursued. His decision, which I applaud, was to make better time running along the ravine floor."

Regina waited for the Prince to continue.

"It's just odd that a man who is a master fencer, a defeater of giants, an expert in the use of dream shade powder, would not know what this ravine opens into."

"And what is that?" asked Regina.

"The Fire Swamp," said Prince Baelfire.

"Then we have him," said Regina.

"Precisely so." It was a well-documented trait of his to smile only just before the kill; his smile was very much in evidence now…

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**"Dede42: I enjoyed the sword fight and I look forward to their adventures in the fire swamp and the ROTS." Next chapter! ;) **

**"Maiqu: Dude the reunion was absolutely wonderful! Great job!" Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it :) **

**"Lisa1972: oh that's excellent :)" Thank you! **

**"Kari: THAT WAS FREAKING AWESOME! This so far is my favorite chapter!" I like the caps of excitement! :) I'm so glad you liked it! **

**"trustpixiedust: Yes! The reunion scene. IT'S ABOUT BLOODY TIME! Ahh yes. My heart is happy. And there's kissing. Life could not be better right now. This story is amazing and I love you. Your details are impeccable and I love you. The way you made this is brilliant and I love you. I'm addicted to this story and I love you. I can't wait for the next update and I love you." Your reviews are amazing and I love you. I'm so excited that you are enjoying it and I love you. Thank you so much for your enthusiasm and I love you. You're beautiful and fantastic and I love you!**

**"captainswanproblems: Love this chapter! Hit me right in the feels. My heart. ogosh. Love your writing, and this story so very much! Please update soon, I'm already dying for the next chapter." Hitting the feels is the best compliment! I'm sorry this update took so long, but I'll definitely have more later tonight! :) **

**"queenfrizz30: Excellent. Loved the reunion, well written and touching. I can't wait for the next update." Thank you! :) **

**"BeforeTheStorm15: Loved this chapter too! I LOVE how you didn't make Neal a completely idiot or evil villain, I love him in the series and hate when people change his character just to suit their ship. But you've written him, and CS, beautifully, and you've really captured the style of the story whilst putting your own little twists on it here and there, eagerly awaiting the next chapter! xx" Thank you! I also like Neal's character in the series, and I definitely don't see him as a bad or evil guy. I do think that if he had stayed with his dad when he was younger, he wouldn't be the same guy he is now. I think he would have lost a little of his charm and righteousness. But for this story, he's just kind of... spoiled, I guess is the best way to describe it. He's not going to be ****_just _****like Humperdinck was. And I hope the little bit of a shift will play out well and people will like it lol. **

**"Zerousy: Emma as a badass. love it. Oh man, I can only imagine how you're going to twist the story now! I'm excited." I can't write Emma without keeping to her badass ways! Lol. I love Buttercup, but she and Emma are very different and I'm excited to venture into that!**

**"Heart breaker99: This is a really good story, I can't wait for the next chapter and this is by far one of my most favourite fanfictions of OUAT EVER!" I'm so glad to hear it! :) Thank you! **

**"CaptainSwan01: This story is absolutely amazing! Please update soon!" Thank you! :) **

**"ByrintheBookWookie: I just sped through the last few chapters so I didn't leave reviews. Sorry, but there was just no time! You know how it is when you're reading a really good book, you can't stop. Good form, my dear Oncer. Also, for a second there, I didn't remember that the fight scene in this chap wasn't in the book. It was just that well written. The blending of original dialogue and brand new action was quite marvellous. I'm looking forward to what's to come, both old and new." Thank you! That's just an amazing compliment! This chapter was pretty strict to the book, but the next chapter will have a bit of new/original information that I hope you enjoy! :) **


	12. Chapter 12: The Fire Swamp

**Disclaimer: I told you I'd post another chapter by tonight! I know this one kind of ends on a bit of a "cliffhanger", but to tease, the next chapter is titled The Captain. I hope you all enjoy! Oh, and I own nothing, sadly.**

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Killian, indeed, had not the least idea that he was racing dead into the Fire Swamp. He knew only, once Emma and he had sword fought down the ravine, that to climb out would take too much time. Killian noted only that the ravine bottom was flat rock and heading in the general direction he wanted to follow. So he and Emma fled along, both of them very much aware that gigantic forces were following them, and, undoubtedly, cutting into their lead.

The ravine grew increasingly sheer as they went along, and Killian soon realized that whereas once he probably could have helped her through the climb, now there was simply no way of doing so. He had made his choice and there was no changing possible: wherever the ravine led was their destination, and that, quite simply, was that.

Killian turned back to Emma after inspecting the direction they were about to lead. He smiled at her and held her perfect face in his quick hands. "When I left you," he whispered, "you were already more beautiful than anything I dared to dream. In our years apart, my imaginings did their best to improve on your perfection. At night, your face was forever behind my eyes. And now I see that that vision who kept me company in my loneliness was a hag compared to the beauty now before me."

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Enough about my beauty. Everybody always talks about how beautiful I am. I've got a mind, Killian. Talk about that. Or about how I beat you in our fight."

Killian chuckled, "Throughout eternity I shall do that very thing. But now we haven't time. It appears that climbing back up the ravine proves to be much more challenging than fighting down them, so we're going to have to run along this path to make it out of the mountains."

"You climbed the Cliffs of Insanity, and this isn't nearly that steep."

"And it took a little out of me too, let me tell you. And after that little effort, I tangled with a fella who knew a little something about fencing. And after that, I spent a few happy moments grappling with a giant. And after that, I had to outwit a King to death when any mistake meant it was a knife in the throat for you. And after that I had to sword fight you – who, by the way, have improved tenfold since the last time we practiced in the courtyard years ago." Emma blushed slightly. "I'm tired, my love."

Emma nodded, "Alright, I get it. Let's go on then."

And they moved forward, hand in hand. Killian was considerably ahead of Emma with the realization that they were heading into the Fire Swamp. Whether it was a touch of sulfur riding a breeze or a flick of yellow flame far ahead in the daylight, he could not say for sure. But once he realized what was about to happen, he began as casually as possible to find a way to avoid it, a quick glance up the sheer ravine sides ruled out any possibility of getting Emma and himself past the climb. He dropped to the ground, as he had been doing every few minutes, to test the speed of their trackers. Now, he guessed them to be less than half an hour behind and gaining.

He rose and ran with her, faster, neither of them spending breath in conversation. It was only a matter of time before she realized what they were about to be into, so he decided to beat back her panic in any way possible. "I think we can slow down a bit now," he told her, slowing a bit. "They're still well behind."

Emma took a deep breath of relief.

Killian made a show of checking their surroundings. Then he gave her his best smile. "With any luck at all, we should soon be safely in the Fire Swamp."

Emma heard his speech, of course. But she did not, she did not, take it well. Emma, in her years of studying and reading, knew much about both fire swamps in general and this particular kingdom's Fire Swamp.

Fire swamps are, of course, entirely misnamed. As to why this has happened, no one knows, though probably the colorful quality of the two words together is enough. Simply, there are swamps which contain a large percentage of sulfur and other gas bubbles that burst continually into flame. They are covered with lush giant trees that shadow the ground, making the flame bursts seem particularly dramatic. Because they are dark, they are almost always quite moist, thereby attracting the standard insect and alligator community that prefers a moist climate. In other words, a fire swamp is just a swamp, period; the rest is embroidery.

This particular Fire Swamp did and does have some odd characteristics: (a) the existence of Snow Sand and (b) the presence of the R.O.U.S.

Snow Sand is usually, again incorrectly, identified with lightning sand. Nothing could be less accurate. Lightning sand is moist and basically destroys by drowning. Snow Sand is as powdery as anything short of talcum, and destroys by suffocation.

Most particularly though, this Fire Swamp was used to frighten children. There was not a child in the realm that at one time or another was not, when misbehaving very badly, threatened with abandonment in the Fire Swamp. "Do that one more time, you're going to the Fire Swamp" is as common as "Clean your plate; people are starving in Agrabah!" And so, as children grew, so did the danger of the Fire Swamp in their enlarging imaginations. No one, of course, ever actually went into the Fire Swamp, although, every year or so, a diseased R.O.U.S. might wander out to die, and its discovery would only add to the myth and the horror.

Emma stared at the Fire Swamp. As a child, she had once spent an entire nightmare year convinced that she was going to die there. Now she could not move another step. The giant trees blackened the ground around her. From every part came the sudden flames. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm afraid not."

"I once dreamed I would die here."

"So did I, so did we all. Were you eight that year?" Killian asked. "I was."

"Eight. Six. I can't remember."

Killian took her hand.

She could not move. "Must we?"

Killian nodded.

"Why?"

"Now is not the time." He pulled her gently.

She still could not move.

Killian took her in his arms. "My dear, sweet love. I have my sword, and you have yours. I did not come across the world to lose you now."

Emma was searching somewhere for a sufficiency of courage. Evidently, she found it in his eyes.

At any rate, hand in hand, they moved into the shadows of the Fire Swamp. Killian and Emma stayed side by side as they walked forward. Emma realized, that the main thing she had to do was to forget her childhood dreams, for the Fire Swamp _was _bad, but it wasn't _that _bad. The odor of the escaping gases, which at first seemed almost totally punishing, soon diminished through familiarity. The sudden bursts of flame were easily avoided because, just before they struck, there was a deep kind of popping sound clearly coming from the vicinity where the flames would then appear.

Killian carried his sword in his right hand, waiting for the first R.O.U.S., but none appeared. He had cut a very long piece of strong vine and coiled it over one shoulder and was busy working on it as they moved. "What we'll do once I've got this properly done is," he told her, moving steadily on beneath the giant trees, "We'll attach ourselves to each other, so that way, no matter what the darkness we'll be close. Actually, I think that's more precaution than necessary, because, to tell you the truth, I'm almost disappointed; this place is bad, all right, but it's not _that _bad. What kind of story will we have to tell our grandchildren about if something more exciting doesn't happen soon? Don't you agree?"

Emma rose an eye brow at her love, "Are you attempting to be smooth and calm for my sake or for your own? Because I will not have you patronizing me –" the Snow Sand had her.

Killian turned only in time to see her disappear.

Emma had simply let her attention wander for a moment, the ground seemed solid enough, and she had no idea what Snow Sand looked like anyway; but once her front foot began to sink in, she could not pull back, and even before she could scream, she was gone. It was like falling through a cloud. The sand was the finest in the world, and there was no bulk to it whatsoever, and, at first, no unpleasantness. She was just falling, gently, through this soft powdery mass, falling farther and farther from anything resembling life, but she could not allow herself to panic. Emma had read about Snow Sand, and recalled how to behave if this happened: she spread her arms and spread her fingers and forced herself into the position resembling that of a dead-man's float in swimming, remembering that the more she could spread herself, the slower she would sink. And the slower she sunk, the quicker Killian could dive down after her and catch her. Emma's ears were now caked with Snow Sand, both nostrils, and she knew if she opened her eyes a million tiny fine bits of Snow Sand would seep behind her eyelids, and now she was beginning to panic badly. How long had she been falling? Hours, it seemed, and she was having pain in holding her breath. Emma continued to sink. The weight of the sand began to brutalize her shoulders. The small of her back began to ache. It was agony keeping her arms outstretched and her fingers spread when it was almost so useless. The Snow Sand was heavier and heavier on her now as she sunk always down. And was it bottomless, as they thought when they were children? Did you just sink forever until the sand ate away at you and then did your poor bones continue the trip forever down? No, surely there had to somewhere be a resting place. _A resting place_, Emma thought. _What a wonderful thing. I'm so tired, so tired, and I want to rest._

Killian had made a terrific start. Before she had even entirely disappeared, he had dropped his sword and had gotten the vine coil from his shoulder. It took him next to no time to knot one end around a giant tree, and, holding tight to the free end, he simply dove headlong into the Snow Sand, kicking his feet as he sank, for greater speed. There was no question in his mind of failure. He knew he would find her and he knew she would be upset and hysterical and possibly even brain tumbled. But alive. And that was, in the end, the only fact of lasting import. The Snow Sand had his ears and nose blocked, and he hoped she had not panicked and knew some about how to withstand the sand, so that he could catch her quickly with his headlong dive. The way to rescue in Snow Sand was really the same as rescuing a drowning swimmer in murky water. They floated slowly down, you dove straight down, you kicked, you pulled with your free arm, you gained on them, you grabbed them, you brought them to the surface, and the only real problem then would be convincing your grandchildren that such a thing had actually happened and was not just another family fable.

He was still concerning his mind with the infants yet unborn when something happened he had not counted on: the vine was not long enough. He hung suspended for a moment, holding to the end of it as it stretched straight up through the Snow Sand to the security of the giant tree. To release the vine was truly madness. There was no possibility of forcing your body all the way back up to the surface. A few feet of ascension was possible if you kicked wildly, but no more. So if he let go of the vine and did not find her within a finger snap, it was all up for both of them.

Killian let go of the vine without a qualm, because he had come too far to fail now; failure was not even a problem to be considered. Down he sank then and within a finger snap he had his hand around her wrist. Killian screamed then himself, in horror and surprise, and the Snow Sand gouged at his throat, for what he had grabbed was a skeleton wrist, bone only, no flesh at all. That happened in Snow Sand. Once the skeleton was picked clean, it would begin, often, to float, like seaweed in a quiet tide, shifting this way and that, sometimes surfacing, more often just journeying through the Snow Sand for eternity. Killian threw the wrist away and reached out blindly with both hands now, scrabbling wildly to touch some part of her, because failure was not a problem; failure was not a problem, he told himself; it is not a problem to be considered, so forget failure; just keep busy and find her, and he found her. Her foot, more precisely, and pulled it to him and then his arm was around her perfect waist and he began to kick, kick with any strength left, needing now to rise the few yards to the end of the vine. The idea that it might be difficult finding a single vine strand in a small sea of Snow Sand never bothered him. Failure was not a problem; he would simply have to kick and when he had kicked hard enough he would rise and when he had risen enough he would reach out for the vine and when he reached out it would be there and when it was there he would tie her to it and with his last breath he would pull them both up to life.

Which is exactly what happened.

She remained unconscious for a very long time. Killian busied himself as best he could, cleansing the Snow Sand from ears and nose and mouth and, most delicate of all, from beneath the lids of her eyes. The length of her quietness disturbed him vaguely; it was almost as if she knew she had died and was afraid to find out for a fact that it was true. He held her in his arms, rocked her slowly. Eventually she was blinking.

For a time she looked around and around. "We lived, then?" she managed finally.

"We're a hardy breed."

"What a wonderful surprise."

"No need –" He was going to say "No need for worry," but her panic struck too quickly. It was a normal enough reaction, and he did not try to block it but, rather, held her firmly and let the hysteria run its course. She shuddered for a time as if she fully intended to fly apart. But that was the worst. From there, it was but a few minutes to quiet sobbing. Then she was Emma again.

Killian stood, buckled on his sword. "Come," he said, offering her his hand. "We have far to go."

"Not until you tell me," she replied. "Why must we endure this?"

"Now is not the time."

"It _is _the time." She stayed where she was, on the ground.

Killian sighed. She meant it. "All right," he said finally. "I'll explain. But we must keep moving."

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**"Maiqu: Here comes the fire swamp!" And even more to come! **

**"Kari: Tis is officially one if my favorite stories! You are such a talented writer! Keep it up! Ps loved the way you invorporated Regnia!" I couldn't write an OUAT story without including Regina! Lol. And thank you! I can't take all the credit, but I and Mr. Goldman are very appreciative! ;) **

**"Dede42: Time for the Fire Swamp adventure! Geronimo! I hope I spelled that right." You did! Lol. I can't read/hear that word without thinking of Doctor Who! **

**"Annika the Merciful: (Ch 2) Oh my goodness! This is very well done and your have written both characters incredibly well. t I very much enjoy the style of your writing as well as your develop them. (Ch 3) Truly you are doing justice to the story I have always loved! I enjoy it more and more." I'm so glad to hear I'm doing the story justice and that you are enjoying it so much! Thank you for your kind reviews :) **

**"queenfrizz30: Another excellent chapter. I can't wait to see what happens next" Thank you! :) **

**"GreenEyedPurpleRaven: This has been absolutely amazing, perfect and brilliant so far! I love how you keep enough of the original essence of the book while still being able to weave in your own personal style, and keeping the personalities of the characters uniform throughout. I also think the idea of the backstories of the characters is charming! Each update forthcoming will make me so happy :) Happy Thanksgiving to you as well, if you live in the states!" Thank you so much for your sweet and kind words! Keeping the personalities and characters similar to the original story and uniform to this story is very important to me and I'm so glad it's being transpired to the story. And I am from the states, so thank you! :) **

**"Lisa1972: oh that's hilarious, Baelfire thinks he's good..." Well, he is good at hunting! Lol. **


	13. Chapter 13: The Captain

**Disclaimer: As promised, more Fire Swamp and learning about our captain! There's one tiny alteration between the backstory that I hope you all like! I wish I owned everything! I hope you enjoy :)**

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"We must get through the Fire Swamp," Killian began, "for one good and simple reason." Once he had started talking, Emma stood, following close behind him as he went on. "I had always intended getting to the far side; I had not, I must admit, expected to go through. Around, was my intention, but the ravine forced me to change."

"The good and simple reason," Emma prompted, not letting him get distracted.

"On the far end of the Fire Swamp is the mouth of the bay. And anchored far out in the deepest waters of that bay is the great ship, _Jolly Roger_. The _Jolly Roger_ is the sole property of the Dread Pirate Captain Hook."

"The man who killed you," Emma said. "The one who broke my heart. Captain Hook took your life, that was the story I was told. Which apparently was a lie."

"Quite correct," Killian said. "And that ship is our destination."

"So you know the pirate captain? You are friendly with such a man?"

"It's a little more than that," Killian began. "You see, I _am _the Dread Pirate Captain Hook."

Emma scoffed, "I fail to see how that is possible, since he has been marauding for three hundred years and you only left me a handful of years ago."

"I myself am often surprised at life's little quirks," Killian chuckled.

"I was told that you were captured by the pirate on your sail as Lieutenant."

"He did. His ship _Jolly Roger _captured the ship I was on, _Jewel of the Realm_, and we were all to be put to death."

"But Hook did not kill you."

Killian exhaled deeply, "Clearly."

"Why?"

"Well if you stop interrupting me I'll be able to go on with my story, dear."

Emma rolled her eyes and huffed. "Just explain, please. I'm running out of patience."

Killian chuckled slightly. "Alright, alright. The story. The _Jewel of the Realm _was traveling well. I did get promoted to Lieutenant after a few years at sea. A month later, the Captain died by the hands of mermaids. Having read much about the mermaids, I acted quickly to secure the men from the same fate before it was too late. We only lost three men, and I became Captain by default. Days later, we were attacked by Captain Hook and his pirates. As the Captain, I was forced to meet with Hook so he could explain to me the fate of my men. When I walked into his cabin, I was prepared to come face to face with the most brutally cruel and terrifying pirate I had heard tales about all my life. But instead, I met a man only a few years my senior. First, he complimented me on my lack of begging and pleading and bribing for my life like most of the other captains did. _Good form, _he said. Then he asked my name. _Captain Killian Jones of the King's Navy, _I told him proudly. That was when his entire demeanor changed. He studied my face for a long while, and then excused me from his cabin. _Go below, _he told me, _I'll most likely kill you tomorrow."_

Emma pushed Killian around a bed of Snow Sand he hadn't seen as he went on with his story.

"To keep my mind off my coming slaughter, I decided to learn what I could about piracy in the time left allotted me. I helped the cook and I cleaned the hold and, in general, did whatever was asked of me, hoping that my energies might be favorably noticed by Hook himself. _Well, I've come to kill you_, he said the next morning, and I said, _Thank you for the extra time; it's been most fascinating; I've learned such a great deal. _And he said, _Overnight? What could you learn in that time?_ And I said, _That no one had ever explained to your cook the difference between table salt and cayenne pepper. _He admitted, _Things have been a bit fiery this trip. Go on, what else? _And I explained that there would have been more room in the hold if boxes had been stacked differently, and then he noticed that I had completely reorganized things down there and, fortunately for me, there was more room, and finally he said, _Very well, you can be my valet for a day. I've never had a valet before; probably I won't like it, so I'll kill you in the morning. _Every night for the next year he always said something like that to me. _Thank you for everything, Killian, good night now, I'll probably kill you in the morning. _By the end of that year, of course, we were more than valet and master. I like to think he was fond of me as I of him. By then, I had learned really quite a great deal about sailing and hand fighting and fencing and throwing the long knife and never been in as excellent physical condition. At the end of one year, my captain said to me, _Enough of this valet business, Killian, from now on you are my second-in-command_. And I said, _Thank you, sir, but I could never be a pirate. _And he said, _You want to get back to that golden-haired creature of yours, don't you? _As I had told him much about you in our journey. And I didn't even have to bother answering that. _A good year or two of piracy and you'll be rich and back you go. _And I said, _Your men have been with you for years and they aren't rich. _And he said, _That's because they are not the captain. I am going to retire soon, Killian, and the Jolly Roger will be yours. _I must admit, beloved, I weakened a bit there, but we reached no final decision. Instead, he agreed to let me assist him in the next few captures and see how I liked it. Which I did."

Killian stopped talking for a moment, and pretended to clear his throat, because he had spotted the first R.O.U.S. following behind them. There seemed no need yet to alert Emma, so he just continued to clear his throat and hurry along between the flame bursts.

"Why do you think he favored you so greatly?" Emma asked, completely engulfed in his story, but watching where they walked as he spoke to avoid any flames or Snow Sand.

Killian dodged a sudden burst of flame, shielding Emma from the heat. "Let me go on. Not only did I like it, but it turned out I was talented, as well. So talented that Hook said to me one April morning, _Killian, the next ship is yours; let's see how you do. _That afternoon we spotted a fat beauty, loaded for a Camelot. I sailed up close. They were in a panic. _Who is it? _their captain cried. _Killian, _I told him. _Never heard of you, _he answered, and with that they opened fire. Disaster. They had no fear of me at all. I was so flustered I did everything wrong, and soon they got away. I was, do I have to add, disheartened. Hook called me in his cabin. I sunk in like a whipped boy. _Buck up_, he told me, and then he closed the door and we were quite along. _What I am about to tell you I have never said before and you must guard it closely. _I of course said I would. _I am not the Dread Pirate Captain Hook, _he said, _my name is Liam Jones, and I am your brother, Killian." _

"Your brother?!" Emma exclaimed.

There was now another R.O.U.S. following them. Flanking them as they moved.

Emma saw them now. "Killian –"

"Shh. It's all right. I'm watching them. Shall I finish? Will it take your mind off them?"

Emma nodded.

"Obviously, I was very surprised and a bit precautious of this news. Then he explained to me what happened. Liam was ten years old and I was just learning to walk when our father abandoned us on a ship dock; our mother had died soon after my birth. Liam said he looked everywhere for our father until one of the sailors told him that they saw the man he was describing getting on a ship a few hours earlier and left the dock. Surprised by the news, he took his eyes off of me for just a few moments. Enough moments for me to crawl away from him. He said I must have made my way on a ship, and he searched as many in the harbor as he could. I interjected here and told him the story your mother and father told me, about how I was found on one of the Navy ships and taken to the kingdom. Where I grew up as a stable boy, and fell in love with the princess."

Emma felt her cheeks blush at this.

"Liam went on and described how he found his way on Captain Hook's ship, and the pirates attacked him. But the captain spared him, taking pity on his tale of loss. He made him a part of his crew and became a pirate. _I inherited this ship from the Captain Hook that spared me_, he explained. _The man I inherited from was not the real Dread Pirate Captain Hook either; his name was James. The real original Dread Pirate Captain Hook had died long ago, retired as a very rich man. _When I confessed my confusion, Liam explained, _It's really very simple. After several years, the original Hook was so rich he wanted to retire. Smee was his friend and first mate, so he gave the ship to Smee, who had an identical experience to yours: the first ship he attempted to board nearly blew him out of the water. So Hook, realizing the name was the thing that inspired the necessary fear, sailed the Jolly Roger to port, changed crews entirely, and Smee told everyone he was the Dread Pirate Captain Hook, and who was to know he was not? When Smee retired rich, he passed the name to his first mate, and so on until James passed the name to me, and I, Liam Jones, now dub thee, Killian, my little brother, the Dread Pirate Captain Hook. All we need is to land, take on some new young pirates. I will sail along for a few days as Liam, your first mate, and will tell everyone about my years with you, Captain Hook. Then you will let me off when they are all believers, and the waters of the world are yours._" Killian smiled at Emma. "So now you know. And you should also realize why it is foolish to be afraid."

"But I am afraid," Emma admitted.

"It will all be happy at the end. Consider: just a few years ago you were just a girl who only cared for riding and I was a stable boy. Now you are a strong and powerful queen-to-be and I rule uncontested on the water. Surely, such individuals were never intended to die in a Fire Swamp."

"How can you be sure?"

"Well, because we're together, hand in hand, in love."

Emma smiled and squeezed her pirate's hand. "I love you."

Killian surely would have kissed her after her proclamation, had not an R.O.U.S. attacked.

It jumped from the tree branch, sinking its giant teeth into his unprotected shoulder, forcing him to Earth in a very unexpected spurt of blood. The other two that had been following launched their attack then too, ignoring Emma, driving forward with all their hungry strength to Killian's bleeding shoulder.

Emma had only read a little about R.O.U.S. – Rodents of Unusual Size – but she knew they could reach the weight of 150 pounds. They are nothing but water hogs, however, and present very little danger. The largest pure rat is probably the Tasmanian, originally found in Wonderland, which has actually been weighed at one hundred pounds. But they have little agility, tending to sloth when they reach full growth, and most Tasmanian herdsmen have learned with ease to avoid them. The Fire Swamp R.O.U.S. were a pure rat strain, weighed usually eighty pounds, and had the speed of wolfhounds. They were also carnivorous, and capable of frenzy.

The rats struggled with each other to reach Killian's wound. Their enormous front teeth tore at the unprotected flesh of his left shoulder, and he had no idea if Emma was already half devoured – until the rat to his left was stabbed.

Emma had taken action quickly, swinging King George's sword at the beast and stabbing it until it rolled off of Killian and laid dead on its back.

"Get back, Emma!" Killian called out, still fighting off the other two. "Or they'll come after you, too."

"Shut up, Killian, and let me save you!"

She swung again at the second rat, who turned to attack her. But she was a hair quicker than the rat, dodging out of its way and replacing her body with her sword. The rat lunged straight into the sword, but only falling with a flesh wound. Emma readied her sword and she and the rat attacked at the same time. The rat clawed at Emma's side, leaving long and deep scratch marks into her arm. Although she was in deep pain, she was close enough to plunge her sword into the beast's chest, finally bringing it to its death.

Killian was also working on fighting the rat that remained on him. He was already badly cut up and sore, so he wasn't able to fight to his full capacity. So he intentionally rolled his body into a spurt of flame.

His clothes began to burn – that he expected – but, more important, the rats shied away from the heat and the flames for just an instant, but that was enough for him to reach and throw his sword into the heart of the beast.

Emma pulled him out of the fire and began scooping dirt over him to put out the flames. She helped him to his feet and Killian shouted "Hurry! We must make some bandages or more will come!"

So Emma began tearing at the hem of her dress to make some bandages and Killian began caking mud onto the deep wounds in his shoulder.

"They're like sharks, blood creatures; it's blood they thrive on." Emma began to wrap his shoulder with her dress scraps. He hissed when she tied it around him tightly. "Your arm. Give me more bandages to cover your wounds."

Emma held him still as she worked on wrapping him, "You are worse off than me – I can wait."

"No! If they smell the blood, we won't survive." He squatted down and began tearing her dress more. Despite her annoyance, he began to wrap up her arm. "We'll know soon enough," Killian said, because two more rats were watching them. He picked up his sword and Emma's grip around her own tightened. "If they charge, they smell it."

The giant rats stood watching.

"Come," Killian whispered.

Two more giant rats joined the first pair.

Without warning, Emma's sword flashed, and the nearest rat was bleeding. The other three turned instantly on their own kind and began eating it while it was still screaming.

Killian, with a giant grin of pride, took Emma's hand and again they started to move.

"How bad are you?" she asked.

"I am in something close to agony but we can talk about that later. How bad are you?"

Emma shrugged as they moved, "Just a scratch."

They hurried. They had been in the Fire Swamp for one hour, and it turned out to be the easiest one they had of the six it took to cross it. But they crossed it. Alive and together. Hand very much in hand.

* * *

**"proudlesbian: love it" :) **

**"oncer4life2: love it are you going explain what happened to killian when hook attacked his ship" I hope this chapter cleared some things up ;) **

**"queenfrizz30: So wonderful to get a second chapter on the same night. It made my day." I'm so glad to hear it! :) **

**"Kari: Great chapter as always! Loved it! Cant wait for the next update! HAPPY THANKSGIVING!3" Thank you and thank you! Happy belated Thanksgiving to you, too! :) **

**"Maiqu: This is seriously perfect!" ****_You _****are seriously perfect! :) **

**"Lisa1972: well yes, hunting, but not with people, which will be his downfall :)" That's true! Lol.**

**"Dede42: Now to learn what happened to Killiam all those years and an encounter with an ROUS coming up next I expect. Update soon!" You were very right! Lol. **

**"Carly: I couldn't stop reading this. Amaze balls, my favorite movie Princess Bride and favorite show Once Upon A Time! Well done this is, and I am anxious to see the rest of the story. Exciiiiiited :-D" I'm so glad I'm doing your favorite movie and show justice! :) **


	14. Chapter 14: The Aftershock

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Prince Baelfire just stared. He sat astride his horse, studying the footsteps down on the floor of the ravine. There was simply no other conclusion: the kidnapper had dragged his Princess into it.

Countess Regina sat alongside. "Did those idiots actually go in?"

The Prince nodded.

Praying the answer would be "no," Regina asked, "Do you think we should follow them?"

The Prince shook his head. "They'll either live or die in there. If they die, I have no wish to join them. If they live, I'll greet them on the other side."

"It's too far around," Regina said.

"Not if you poof us over there."

Regina exhaled deeply, "When you say _poof _it makes you sound like a child, your highness. My magic is not something to jest at." She began to take off her glove, and the Prince only shrugged. Regina looked back towards the footsteps, "He must be very desperate, or very frightened, or very stupid, or very brave."

"Very all four I should think," the Prince replied.

Purple fog surrounded them and suddenly they were on the other side, just as the kidnapper and Emma emerged from the Swamp.

Killian surveyed his surroundings. From the north sailed in half the great Armada. From the south now, the other half. A hundred mounted horsemen, armored and armed. In front of them the Countess. And out alone in front of all, the Prince on his great white horse.

Killian looked back to Emma with an apologetic look. "We took too long in crossing. The fault is mine."

"I accept your surrender," the Prince announced loudly, trying to get his attention.

Killian held Emma's hand. "No one is surrendering," he said.

The Prince scoffed. "You're acting silly now. I credit you with bravery. Don't make yourself a fool."

"What is so foolish about winning?" Killian wanted to know. "It's my opinion that in order to capture us, you will have to come into the Fire Swamp. We have spent many hours here now; we know where the Snow Sand waits. I doubt that you or your men will be any too anxious to follow us in here. And by morning we will have slipped away."

Emma rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. "It's like you boys are fighting over lighting a simple fire or something ridiculous," she said under her breath.

"I doubt that somehow," said the Prince, and he gestured out to sea. Half the Armada had begun to give chase to the great ship _Jolly Roger_. And the _Jolly Roger, _alone, was sailing, as it had to do, away. "Surrender," the Prince said.

"_It will not happen!" _

"SURRENDER!" the Prince shouted.

"DEATH FIRST!" Killian roared.

"… will you promise not to hurt him…?" Emma whispered.

"What was that?" Baelfire and Killian asked in unison.

Emma took a step forward and held her head high, looking Baelfire dead in the eye. "If we surrender, freely and without struggle, if life returns to what it was one dusk ago, will you swear not to hurt this man?"

Prince Baelfire raised his right hand: "I swear on the grave on my dead mother that I shall not hurt this man, and if I do, may I never hunt again though I live a thousand years."

Emma turned to Killian. "There," she said. "You can't ask for more than that, and that is the truth."

Killian's eyes held the true pain of betrayal he was feeling. "The truth is that you would rather live with your Prince than die with your love."

"I would rather live than die, I admit it," she said bravely.

Killian's eyes narrowed, "We were talking of love, dear."

There was a long pause. Emma thought about what she was doing. More than three years ago she thought her entire world had died. And here he was, back from the dead and right in front of her. She thought about Graham and Anton, two men whose company she had actually enjoyed and their blood was spilt because of her. And now, thanks to King George's death, his son James could easily find reason to start a war. And then how many would lose their lives in battle and as casualties? While she loved her kingdom and her people, and valued their lives more than her own – there was one life she was not willing to gamble against anything. Her Killian. Here they were, with a team of soldiers ready to strike and take his life on command. She couldn't save him the first time he died. And now she could. She found out in those years that she could live without her love, even if it cost her happiness. So this was her chance. She had to let him walk away unharmed, and there was only one way she imagined she could get away with doing that. Then Emma said it: "I can live without love."

And with that, she left Killian alone.

Prince Baelfire watched her as she began the long cross to him. "When we are out of sight," he said quietly to Countess Regina, "take that man in black and put him in the fifth level of the Zoo of Death."

Regina nodded. "For a moment, I believed you when you swore."

"I spoke truth; I never lie," the Prince replied. "I said _I _would not hurt him. But I never for a moment said he would not suffer pain. _You _will do the actual tormenting, I know how much you enjoy ripping out people's hearts; I will only spectate." He opened his arms then for his Princess.

"He belongs to the ship _Jolly Roger_," Emma said. "He is –" she began, about to tell Killian's story, but that was not for her to repeat – "a simple sailor and I have known him since I was a child. Will you arrange that?"

"Must I swear again?"

"No need," Emma said.

Baelfire took her hand, "Come along, my Princess."

Emma went away with him.

Killian watched it all. He stood silently at the edge of the Fire Swamp. It was darker now, but the flame spurts behind him outlined his face. He was glazed with fatigue. He had been bitten, cut, gone without rest, had assaulted the Cliffs of Insanity, had saved and taken lives. He had risked his world, and now it was walking away from him, hand in hand with a ruffian prince.

Then Emma was gone, out of sight.

Killian took a breath. He was aware of the score of soldiers starting to surround him, and probably he could have made a few of them perspire for their victory.

But for what point?

Killian sagged.

"Come, sir." Countess Regina approached, a slight purr in her voice. "We must get you safely to your ship."

"We are both people of action," Killian replied narrowing his eyes at Regina. "Lies do not become us."

She smiled menacingly, "Well spoken." She lifted her hand and pulled off her glove to reveal her red hand.

Killian smirked slightly, nodding to her hand. "Someone was looking for you."

And with a flick of her wrist, Killian was knocked out laying on the ground. Killian fell like a beaten stone, his last conscious thought was the same as it always was: his Princess.

When Baelfire and Emma returned to the kingdom, word of their journey had already spread throughout the town.

Everyone knew of King George's murder attempt, and they were almost convinced to declare war on Prince James and the kingdom.

Everyone knew of Princess Emma's journey up the Cliffs of Insanity and through the Fire Swamp, and they were convinced she was the bravest and strongest woman in the realm.

Everyone knew of Prince Baelfire's search for the Princess and his retrieval of her. Even if they weren't clear on all the details, Baelfire was seen as chivalrous and his popularity within the kingdom grew tenfold.

Emma found that Baelfire was slightly more attentive to her than he usually was. As soon as they got back, he helped tend to her wounds on her face and arm and legs. She was surprised, thinking that he would have gone straight to his Zoo and begin hunting, just as he did every day. But the night approached and he still hadn't left her side. He asked her questions, and tried to get her to engage in conversation. He complimented her on her beauty every hour or so, raving about how she was the fairest of it all and how lucky he was to be her groom-to-be.

She hadn't paid him much attention. She found herself reverting to her old ways – completely numb and lifeless.

* * *

**Earlier that day.**

When Graham regained consciousness, it was still night on the Cliffs of Insanity. Far below, the waters of the ocean pounded. Graham stirred, blinked, tried to rub his eyes, couldn't.

His arms were tied together around a tree.

Graham blinked again, banishing cobwebs. He had gone on his knees to the man in black, ready for death. Clearly, the victor had other notions. Graham looked around as best he could, and there it was, his beautiful sword glittering in the moonlight like lost magic. Graham stretched his right leg as far as it would go and managed to touch the handle. Then it was simply a matter of inching the weapon close enough to be graspable by one hand, and then it was an even simpler task to slash his bindings. He was dizzy when he stood, and he rubbed his head behind his ear, where the man in black had struck him. A lump, sizable, to be sure, but not a major problem.

Graham thought about the Princess, wondering if she was dead yet. And the thought of Princess Emma being dead made Graham feel sad and guilty. So he decided not to think about that. He had to focus on his major problem.

The major problem was what to do now?

King George had strict instructions for occasions such as this, when a plan went wrong: _Go back to the beginning. _Back to the beginning and wait for George, then regroup, replan, start again. Graham had even made a little rhyme out of it for Anton so the giant would not have problems remembering what to do in time of trouble: "_Fool, fool, back to the beginning is the rule." _

Graham knew precisely where the beginning was. They had gotten the job in the Dark kingdom itself, the Thieves Quarter. George had made the arrangements alone, as he always did. He had met with his partner and planned it, all in the Thieves Quarter: So the Thieves Quarter was clearly the place to go.

Only Graham hated it here. Everybody was so dangerous, big, mean and muscular, and so what if he was the greatest fencer in the world and a feared huntsman, who'd know it to look at him? He looked like a skinny outcast guy it might be fun to rob. You couldn't walk around with a sign saying, "Be careful, this is the greatest fencer in the realm. Do not burgle."

Besides, and here Graham felt deep pain, he wasn't that great of a fencer. Not anymore, he couldn't be, hadn't he just been beaten? Once, true, he had been a titan, but now, now –

Graham spent the next couple of hours wallowing in his own self-loathing until he found a fisherman to sail him back to the Dark Kingdom.

The Thieves Quarter was worse than he remembered. Always, before, Anton had been with him, and they made rhymes, and Anton was enough to keep any thief away.

Graham moved panicked up the dark streets, desperately afraid. Why this giant fear? _What was he afraid of? _

He sat on a filthy stoop and pondered. Around him there were cries in the night and, from the alehouses, vulgar laughter. He was afraid, he realized then, because as he sat there, gripping his sword for confidence, he was suddenly back to what he had been before King George had found him.

A failure.

A man without point, with no attachment to tomorrow. Graham had not touched brandy in years. Now he felt his fingers fumbling for money. Now he heard his footsteps running toward the nearest alehouse. Now he saw his money on the counter. Now he felt the brandy bottle in his hands.

Back to the stoop he ran. He opened the bottle. He smelled the rough brandy. He took a sip. He coughed. He took a swallow. He coughed again. He gulped it down and coughed and gulped some more and half began a smile.

His fears were starting to leave him.

After all, why should he have even been afraid? He was Graham Humbert (the bottle was half gone now), son of the graceful Annabelle Humbert, so what was there in the world worth fearing? (Now all the brandy was gone.) How dare fear approach a master such as Graham Humbert? Well, never again. (Into the second bottle.) Never never never never again.

He sat alone and confident and strong. His life was straight and fine. He had money enough for brandy, and if you had that, you had the world.

The stoop was wretched and bleak. Graham slumped there, quite contented, clutching the bottle in his once-trembling hands. Existence was really very simple when you did what you were told. And nothing could be simpler and better than what he had in store.

All he had to do was wait and drink until King George came…

* * *

Anton had no idea how long he was unconscious. He only knew, as he staggered to his feet on the mountain math, that his throat was very sore where the man in black had strangled him.

What to do?

The plans had all gone wrong. Anton closed his eyes, trying to think – there was a proper place to go when plans went wrong, but he couldn't quite remember it. Graham had made a rhyme up for him so he wouldn't forget.

As he ran off into the night to find King George, he tried to recall the rhyme.

King George was napping when he got there. He had been drinking wine and dozed off. Anton dropped to his knees and put his hands in prayer position. "King George, I'm sorry," he began.

George napped on.

Anton shook him gently.

George did not wake.

Not so gently this time.

Nothing.

"Oh I see, you're dead," Anton said. He stood up. "He's dead, King George is," he said softly. And then, with not a bit of help from his brain, a great scream of panic burst from his throat into the night: "_Graham!_" and he whirled back down the mountain path, because if Graham was alive, it would be all right; it wouldn't be the same, no, it could never be that without George to order them and insult them as only he could, but at least there would be time for poetry, and when Anton reached the Cliffs of Insanity he said, "Graham, Graham, here I am" to the rocks and "I'm here, Graham; it's your Anton" to the trees and "Graham, GRAHAM, ANSWER ME PLEASE" all over until there was no other conclusion to draw but that just as there was now no George, so there was no Graham, and that was hard.

It was, in point of fact, too hard for Anton, so he began to run, crying out, "Be with you in a minute, Graham," and "Right behind you, Graham" and "Hey, Graham, wait up" (wait up, straight up which was the way he ran, and wouldn't there be fun with rhymes once he and Graham were together again), but after an hour or so of shouting his throat gave out because he had, after all, been strangled almost to death in the very recent past. On he ran, on and on and on until finally he reached a tiny village and found, just outside town, some nice rocks that formed kind of a cave, almost big enough for him to stretch out in. he sat with his back against a rock and his hands around his knees and his throat hurting until the village boys found him. They held their breath and crept as close as they dared. Anton hoped they would go away, so he froze, pretending to be off with Graham and Graham would say "barrel" and Anton right quick would come back "carol" and maybe they would sing a little something until Graham said "serenade" and you couldn't stump Anton with one that easy because of "centigrade" and then Graham would make a word about the weather and Anton would rhyme it and that was how it went until the village boys stopped being afraid of him. Anton could tell that because they were creeping very close to him now and all of a sudden yelling their lungs out and making crazy faces. He didn't really blame them; he looked like the kind of person you did that to, mocked. His clothes were torn and his throat was gone and his eyes were wild and he probably would have yelled too if he'd been their age.

It was only when they found him funny that he found it, though he did not know the word, degrading. No more yelling. Just laughter now. Laughter, Anton thought, and then he thought giraffeter, because that's all he was to them, some huge funny thing that couldn't make much noise. Laughter, giraffeter, from not to hereafter.

Anton huddled up in his cave and tried looking on the bright side. At least they weren't throwing things at him.

Not yet, anyway.

* * *

**"Maiqu: Absolutely amazing! So glad you included Liam" I couldn't write a backstory for Killian without including him!**

**"Anoymous136: It's interesting how you use the characters in a good way." Thank you!**

**"Dede42: Neat twist about Killian's brother being Captain Hook and giving him the position; so, now they'll get out if the Fire Swamp and have to deal with Baelfire the twit. Geronimo!" Thank you! And yes, you were correct!**

**"Kari: Loved how you incorporated Liam! That wad awesome!" Thank you! I needed to include him!**

**"captainswanproblems: Love how you update so quickly! Fantastic update." I ****_LOVE _****writing this story, that's why I write so much of it lol. **

**"onceuponacaptain: "Shut up and let me save you, Killian!" THIS. AMAZING :) Thanks for making such a wonderful chapter, I swear this was my favorite, but I presume it will soon be jousted from its place by the next chapter. Can't wait! Are you excited for "Save Henry"? :)" YES! I'm watching it now actually as I post this! Lol. **

**"Blondie23: THIS IS QUALITY Goodness gracious my two favorite things Please Please Please keep going!" Thank you thank you! I will keep going! **

**"Cutiekate8: (Ch 5) This is actually amazing like its 2 am. And I can't go to sleep because this is amazing. I have no words. And I totally knew it would be Graham. Good job! (Ch 13) This is amazing and it's 3:15 now" Thank you! Not being able to go to sleep because you're reading is one of the best compliments a writer can get! :) **

**"Maraudette98: Of course! Liam's the other Captain Hook :) I love the twist. keep up the good work. I also liked how Emma fought the beasts too and not just stood there watching." I couldn't just make Emma sit on the sidelines, she's too badass for that! **

**"queenfrizz30: Another great chapter. Loved hearing Killian's story. Can't wait to see what happens next." Thank you! :) **

**"Lisa1972: I just taped the Princess Bride cause I have never watched it, so reading this should be interesting while watching it :)" Oh my goodness! I'm so excited for you to watch the movie for the first time! I hope you enjoy it! :) **

**"Daizels: Is it wrong to enjoy a fanfiction this much? :D" If it's wrong then I don't want to be right! ;) **


	15. Chapter 15: The Nightmares

**Disclaimer: First, I'd like to apologize for my absence these last couple of weeks. But I'm back and will be working very hard on keeping on track with posting for this story, so thank you for your support and patience. **

**Second, the beautiful story and characters are the property of William Goldman and ABC's Once Upon A Time. **

**Third, I just want to take this opportunity to add in this little expert from the book that explains sort of the events that go on in this chapter and those to come. If you're unfamiliar with the book or the movie, the story of Buttercup and Westley (the characters Emma and Killian are based on) is told through the reading of the author's father (or grandfather, depending on which we're talking about). And every now and then, the narrator will interject with his own thoughts about the story so far. I haven't included any of these as they haven't been necessary to my own rendition. But I thought that this particular expert is important for understanding the deep meaning of the story itself which is simply: "****_Life isn't fair." _****And I feel I should begin this chapter with his warning that he includes before the rest of the information in the text. **

**And last, enjoy! :)**

* * *

**_I'm not about to tell you this book has a tragic ending... But there's a lot of bad stuff coming up, torture you've already been prepared for, but there's worse. There's death coming up, and you better understand this: some of the wrong people die. Be ready for it. This isn't Curious George Uses the Potty. Nobody warned me and it was my own fault and that was my mistake, so I'm not letting it happen to you. The wrong people die, some of them, and the reason is this: life is not fair. Forget all the garbage your parents put out. You'll be a lot happier. Okay. Enough. Back to the next. Nightmare time._**

* * *

Killian awoke chained in a giant cage. His shoulder was beginning to fester from the gnawing and digging that the R.O.U.S. had done into his flesh. He ignored his discomfort, momentarily, to try and adjust to his surroundings.

He was certainly underground. It was not the lack of windows that made that sure; more the dankness. From somewhere above him now, he could hear animal sounds: an occasional lion roar, the yelp of the cheetah.

Shortly after his return to consciousness, an older man with a semi-bald head appeared, bloodless, with skin as worn as the years he'd surely seen and as pale as the moonlight. The candlelight that served to illuminate the cage made the old man seem totally like a creature who had never seen the sun. The man held a tray which carried many things: bandages, food, healing powders, and brandy.

"Where are we?" Killian asked.

A shrug from the man.

"Who are you?"

Shrug.

That was almost the entire extent of the fellow's conversation. Killian asked question after question while the albino tended and redressed his wound, then fed him food that was warm and surprisingly good and plentiful.

Shrug.

Shrug.

"Who knows I'm here?"

Shrug.

"Lie, but tell me something – _give me an answer_. Who knows I'm here?"

Whispered: "I know. They know."

"They?"

Shrug.

"The Prince and the Countess, you mean?"

Nod.

"And that is all?"

Nod.

"When I was brought in I was half conscious. The Countess was giving the orders, but three soldiers were carrying me. They know too."

Shake. Whispered: "Knew."

"They're dead, that's what you're saying?"

Shrug.

"Am I to die then, old man?"

Shrug.

But then he mumbled something just out of Killian's ear shot.

"What?"

"Henry," the man whispered a tad nervously. "You can call me Henry."

Killian lay back on the floor of the giant underground cage watching as Henry silently reloaded the try and glided from sight. Of course, he got him to say more than a one worded response and it was just to tell him his name. Killian sighed.

If the soldiers were dead, surely it was not unreasonable to assume that he would eventually follow. But if they wanted his erasure, surely it was also not unreasonable to assume that they had not the least intention of doing it immediately, else why tend his wounds, why return his strength with good warm food? No, his death would be a while yet. But in the meantime, considering the personalities of his captors, it was finally not unreasonable to assume that they would do their best to make him suffer.

Greatly.

Killian closed his eyes. There was pain coming and he had to be ready for it. He had to prepare his brain, he had to get his mind controlled and safe from their efforts, so that they could not break him. He would not let them break him. He would hold together against anything and all. If only they gave him sufficient time to make ready, he knew he could defeat pain. It turned out they gave him sufficient time (it was months before the Machine was ready).

But they broke him anyway.

* * *

At the end of the thirtieth day of festivities, with sixty days more of partying to enjoy, Emma was genuinely concerned that she might lack the strength to endure. Smile, smile, hold hands, bow and thank, over and over. In the past, such festivities and celebrations were easier to tolerate, as she was of better character and stature. But now her follies were forced and her feet were growing heavy. She was simply exhausted from one month; how was she to survive twice that?

It turned out, because of a surprise illness that hit the King, to be both easy and sad. For with fifty-five days to go, Rumplestilskin began to weaken terribly.

A strange sickness that not even his own dark magic could remedy began to overtake his body and new doctors were ordered by Prince Baelfire to be brought in. (There was only one last miracle man alive, Max, but since they had fired Max long before, it would not be wise to repeat such practices; if Max was incompetent then, what could possibly be different now that the situation had only deepened?) The new doctors all agreed on various tried-and-true medications, and within forty-eight hours of their coming on the case, the King was dead.

The wedding date, of course, was unchanged – it wasn't every day a country had a three hundredth anniversary – but all the festivities were either curtailed entirely or vastly cut down. And Prince Baelfire became, forty-give days before the wedding, the Dark King. And that changed everything, because, before, he had taken nothing but his hunting seriously, and now he had to learn, learn _everything_. Learn to run a country, and he buried himself in books and wise men and how did you tax this and when should you tax that and foreign entanglements and who could be trusted and how far and with what?

And before her lovely eyes, Baelfire changed from a man of fear and action to one of frenzied wisdom, because he had to get it all straight _now _before any other country dared interfere with the future of the Dark Kingdom. Emma had tried to offer her assistance in teaching him what she already knew, what she had learned long ago. But Baelfire was having none of it. He was stressed. And in his stress he put down all of Emma's advances, despite her claim that if they were both to rule the joined kingdom they should agree on how to do so.

Their wedding, when it actually took place, was a tiny thing and brief, sandwiched in between a ministers' meeting and a treasury crisis, and Emma spent her first afternoon as queen wandering around the castle not knowing what in the world to do with herself. She'd been preparing for this moment for most of her life, and yet now that it was here, there was nothing for her to do.

It wasn't until King Baelfire walked out on the balcony with her to greet the gigantic throng that had spent the day in patient waiting that she realized it _had _happened, she _was _the Queen, her life, for whatever it was worth, belonged now to the people.

They stood together on the castle balcony, accepting the cheers, the cries, the endless thunderous "hip hips," until Emma said, "I am to walk once more among them." The King, with a nod of approval (though she hadn't really asked), gestured for her to go walk just as she had on the day of their wedding announcement, radiant and alone. And again the people swept apart to let her pass, weeping and cheering and bowing and –

-and then one person booed.

On the balcony watching it all Baelfire reacted instantly, gesturing soldiers into the area where the sound had come from, dispatching more troops quickly down to surround the Queen, and like clockwork Emma was safe, the booer apprehended and led away.

"Hold a moment," Emma said, still shaken by the unexpectedness of what had happened. The soldier who held the booer stopped. "Bring her to me," Emma said, and in a moment the booer was right there, eye to eye.

It was an ancient woman, withered and bent, and Emma thought of all the faces that had gone by in her lifetime, but this one she could not remember. "Have we met?" the Queen asked.

The old one shook her head.

"Then why? Why on this day? Why do you insult me?"

"Because you are not worthy of cheers," the old woman said, and suddenly she was yelling, "_You had love in your hands and you gave it up for gold!" _She turned to the crowd. "_It is true what I tell you – there was love alongside her in the Fire Swamp and she dropped it from her fingers like garbage, and that is what she is, the Queen of Garbage!" _

"They were going to kill Killian. I had to defend my people. I had given my word to the Prince –" Emma began, but the old woman would not be quieted.

"_Ask her how she got through the Fire Swamp? Ask her if she did it alone? She threw love away to be the Queen of Grime, the Queen of Muck – I am old and life means nothing to me, so I am the only person in all this crowd to dare to tell truth, and truth says bow to the Queen of Feculence if you want to, but not I! Cheer the Queen of Slime and Ordure if you want to, but not I! Rave over the beauty of the Queen of Cesspools, but not I! Not I!" _She was advancing on Emma now.

"Take her away," Emma ordered.

But the soldiers could not stop her, and the old woman kept coming on, her voice getting louder and louder and Louder! and LOUDER! and _LOUDER. _and **LOUDER! **and –

Emma woke up screaming.

She was in her bed. Alone. Safe. The wedding was still sixty days away.

But her nightmares had begun.

The next night she dreamed of giving birth to their first child and it was a girl, a beautiful little girl. And Emma said, "I'm sorry it wasn't a boy; I know how much fathers desire sons."

Baelfire said, "Beloved sweet, don't concern yourself with that; just look at the glorious child the gods have given us."

And then he left and Emma held the child to her perfect breast and the child said, "Your milk is sour."

"Oh, I'm sorry." And she shifted to the other breast, but the child again refused.

"No, this is sour too."

"I don't know what to do."

And the baby said, "You always know what to do, you always know exactly what to do, you always do exactly what's right for you, and the rest of the world can go hang."

"You mean Killian –"

"Of course I mean Killian."

Emma explained patiently, "I thought he was dead, you see; I'd given my word to your father –"

"I'm dying now; there's no love in your milk, your milk has killed me," and then the child stiffened and cracked and turned in Emma's hand to nothing but dry dust and Emma screamed and screamed. Even when she was awake again, with fifty-nine days to go till her marriage, she was still screaming.

The third nightmare came quickly the following evening, and again it was a baby – this time a son, a marvelous strong boy – but for some reason she was shackled to the delivery bed. She was crying and screaming and in so much pain she couldn't decide if it was physical or emotional. And then, through flickering candlelight and the chains around her feet and hands biting into her skin, the baby was out. He was crying loudly and the midwife was raving about how beautiful the boy was. But when Emma called out for the midwife to let her see him, they refused.

"The boy does not want to see you," the midwife explained as her back was turned.

Tears still in her eyes from the pain, Emma tried to move from the bed but her restraints hindered her. "Tell him I am his mother and I am the Queen and I command his presence."

"He says he's scared of you. Of what you will do with him."

"Why?" Emma cried out desperately.

"He says you're going to give him away. That you don't want him. That you're going to send him away to live in a terrible, cursed world. That you're going to kill him."

"I'm his mother and I love him, now bring him here; I've never killed anybody."

The baby's voice cried out from behind the shelter of the midwife. "You killed Killian, did you see his face in the Fire Swamp? When you walked away and left him? That's what I call killing."

Emma shook her head, feeling the cold metal tearing into her skin. "When you're older, you'll understand things, now I'm not going to tell you again – come here!"

"Murderer," the baby shouted. "_Murderer!" _but by then Emma had shouted loudly and suddenly, as if by magic, her shackles were gone and she rushed over to grab her baby. She held him in her arms and cried out I love yous. "Your love is poison; it kills," and he died in her arms and she started to cry again.

Even when she was awake again, with fifty-eight days to go till her marriage, she was still crying.

The next night she simply refused to go to sleep. Instead, she walked and read and did needlework and drank cup after cup of steaming tea. She felt sick with weariness, of course, but such was her fear of what she might dream that she preferred any waking discomfort to whatever sleep might have to offer, and at dawn her mother was pregnant –

No, more than pregnant; Snow was having a baby – and as Emma stood there in the corner of the room, she watched herself being born and her father gasped at her beauty and so did her mother and the Blue Fairy was the first to show concern.

The fairy was a sweet woman, known throughout the realm for her love of babies, and she said, "Look – trouble –"

And her father said, "What trouble? Where before did you ever see such beauty?"

"Don't you understand why she was given such beauty?" Blue asked. "It's because she has no heart. Here, listen; the baby is alive but there is no beat."

And she held Emma's chest against Charming's ear and the father could only nod and say, "We must find a miracle man to place a heart inside."

"That would be wrong, I think; I've heard before of creatures like this, the heartless ones, and as they grow bigger they get more and more beautiful and behind them is nothing but broken bodies and shattered souls. And these without hearts are anguished bringers, and my advice would be, since you're both still young, to have another child, a different child. And be rid of this one now, but, of course, the final decision is up to you."

"Well?" Snow said, "Since the Blue Fairy is the kindest creature in the realm, she must know a monster when she sees one; let's get to it."

So Snow and Charming placed baby Emma into an enchanted wardrobe and told her that they were sending her off to a horrible place where she would grow up alone and unaware of who she was and no matter how hard she tried she would never get her happy ending because she wasn't good enough. The baby screamed and cried out in protest, but a cloud of despair surrounded her –

Even when Emma was awake again, at dawn, with fifty-seven days to go till her marriage, she could not stop gasping.

From then on, the nightmares became simply too frightening.

When there were fifty days to go, Emma knocked, one night, on the door to Prince Baelfire's chambers. She entered when he bid her to. "I see trouble," he said. "You look very ill." And so she did. Beautiful, of course. Still that. But in no way well.

Emma did not see quite how to begin.

He ushered her into a chair. He got her water. She sipped at it, staring dead ahead. He put the glass to one side.

"At your convenience, Princess," he said.

"It comes to this," Emma began. "In the Fire Swamp, I made the worst mistake in all the world. I love Killian. I always have. It seems I always will. Because I had before, I thought I could live without him. But I can't. I did not know this when you came to me. Pleas believe what I am about to say: when you said that I must marry you or face war and death. I answered, 'Kill me.' I meant that. I mean this now too: if you say I must marry you in fifty days, I will be gone or dead by morning."

The Prince was literally stunned.

After a long moment, he knelt by Emma's chair and, in his gentlest voice, started to speak: "I admit that when we first became engaged, there was to be no love involved. That was as much my choice as yours, though the notion may have come from you. But surely you must have noticed, in this last month of parties and festivities, a certain warming of my attitude."

"I have. You have been both sweet and noble."

"Thank you. Having said that, I hope you appreciate how difficult this next sentence is for me to say: I would die myself rather than cause you unhappiness by standing in the way of your marrying the man you love."

Emma wanted almost to weep with gratitude. "I will bless you all my days for you kindness." Then she stood. "So it's settled. Our wedding is off."

He stood too. "Except for perhaps one thing."

"That being?"

"Have you considered the possibility that he might not now want any longer to marry you?"

Until that moment, she had not.

"You were, I hate to remind you, not altogether gentle with his emotions in the Fire Swamp. Forgive me for saying that, beloved, but you did leave him in the lurch, in a manner of speaking."

Emma sat down hard, her turn now to be stunned. She had been quite cruel, but that was only so that he would leave without her. It was something she had had to do. Killian must have figured that out by now, hadn't he?

Baelfire knelt again beside her. "This Killian of yours, this sailor boy; he has pride?"

Emma scoffed slightly and whispered, "More than any man alive, I sometimes think."

"Well consider then, dearest. Here he is, off sailing somewhere with the Dread Pirate Captain hook; he has had a month to survive the emotional scars you dealt him. What if he wants now to remain single? Or, worse, what if he has found another?"

Emma had thought she was confident with his love for her and her love for him – but right now with Baelfire in her ear, she was beyond whispering.

"I think, sweetest child, that we should strike a bargain, you and I: if Killian wants to marry you still, bless you both. If, for reasons unpleasant to mention, his pride will not let him, then you will marry me, as planned, and our kingdoms will join."

"He couldn't be married. I'm sure. Not my Killian." She looked at the Prince. "But how can I find out?"

"What about this: you write him a letter, telling him everything. We'll make four copies. I'll take my four fastest ships and order them off in all directions. Captain Hook couldn't have gotten too far within a month's sail. Whichever of my ships finds him will run the white flag of truce, deliver you letter, and Killian can decide. If 'no,' he can speak that message to my captain. If 'yes,' my captain will sail him here to you, and I will have to content myself somehow with a lesser bride."

"I think that is the most generous decision I have yet heard."

Baelfire smiled and reached out to hold her hands. "Do me this favor then in return: until we know Killian's intentions, one way or another, let us continue as we have, so the festivities will not be halted. And if I seem too fond of you, remember that I cannot help myself."

"Agreed," Emma said, going to the door, but not before she gratefully kissed his cheek.

He followed her. "Off with you now and write your letter," and he returned the kiss, smiling with his eyes at her until the corridor curved her from his sight.

That was when his father materialized beside him in a puff of smoke. "You do seem rather fond of her – almost _too _fond, my son," Rumplestilskin said as he studied the Prince. "But that will play out nicely. Because when she dies of murder on your wedding night, it's crucial that all of the kingdom realize the depth of your love, the epochal size of your loss. And then no one will dare hesitate to follow us in the revenge war we are to launch against the late King George's kingdom."

At first, when Rumplestilskin, posing as a mysterious expert of war, approached King George, he was convinced it was best that someone else do her in, and who better than the King of the kingdom? But when the man in black had somehow managed to spoil his plan, Rumplestilskin came close to going insane with rage. But now his basically optimistic nature had reasserted itself: everything always worked out for the best – especially when he manipulated it as such.

His people were infatuated with Emma now as they had never been before her kidnapping. And when Baelfire will announce from his castle balcony that she has been murdered – he already saw the scene in his mind: the Prince would arrive just too late to save her from strangling but soon enough to see King George's soldiers leaping from the window of his bedroom to the soft ground below – when he made that speech to the masses on the three hundredth anniversary of his country, well, there wouldn't be a dry eye in the courtyard.

Baelfire hadn't been too keen on getting his hands messy – heck, he didn't even want to get married in the first place, much less become a part of some devised rouse to make the kingdom declare war. But it was his father's idea, and his father was the smartest man he knew. So he shrugged apathetically and smiled to his father, who was already grinning maniacally.

* * *

**"Maiqu: That was heartbreaking on all counts..my poor Killian...and Anton ohh Anton" Yes! It's so very sad. And poor Killian is in for a lot worse in the future, unfortunately. But he's tough!**

**"Kari: I LOVE how Regina is the person with the red hand! Cant wait fir the next update! Also did you enjoy Save Henery as much as i did?" Thank you! And YES! And the New Neverland, since that has also passed since my last update. I'm very nervous for tonight's midseason finale! But so excited! **

**"Anonymous136: Poor Killian." Yes, our poor pirate! But he's tough! **

**"trustpixiedust: Hi again. I can't stop reviewing because I love this too much. 'Emma rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. "It's like you boys are fighting over lighting a simple fire or something ridiculous," she said under her breath.' OHMYGOSH that quote is PURE GENIUS! I got that reference. ;)" Hehehehe I'm glad you did! I saw the opportunity and I took it! I couldn't help myself lol. :) and I love your reviews! **

**"Dede42: I feel sorry for Anton and Graham since they both got beaten by Killian, but I fear of what Regina is going to do to our favorite pirate in the next chapter. Geronimo!" Our poor Killian is going to, unfortunately, go through a lot of pain in the near future. But he's tough! **

**"Cutiekate8: So today I found out that my brothers roommate's girlfriend has never seen or heard of The Princess Bride and i was shocked and just kept thinking of this and almost talked about this when explaining what it was." Who hasn't ****_heard _****of The Princess Bride?! Lol that's crazy! But I'm honored that you kept thinking of this story when explaining it :) **

**"somewhatdelirious: All of this is amazing. Love love love." Thank you! :) I'm so glad you're enjoying it! **

**"Lisa1972: Still haven't watched it...hopefully I'll get to it this week still :)" Lol no worries! I just hope that whenever you do watch it, you'll enjoy it as much as I do! :) **

**"Daizels: I find myself constantly checking for an update! You are an excellent writer!" I'm so honored! :) But I can't take all the credit. **

**"Zerousy: (Ch 12) Whoot! Killian is an amazing rescuer :)" "(Ch13) That's awesome how Emma knew to make a rat bleed XD" "(Ch 14) Poor Anton! I hope he finds Graham soon." Killian and Emma do make a fabulous rescue team! And they will reunite soon... hopefully! **


	16. Chapter 16: The Torture

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

That night, they began to torture Killian. Countess Regina did the actual pain inducing; Rumplestilskin simply sat by, asking questions out loud, inwardly admiring the Countess' skill. Baelfire would stop by often, but he didn't enjoy the magical kind of torture as much as Regina or his father did.

Regina really cared about pain; especially when she was using her magic to do it. The ways behind the screams interested her fully as much as the anguish itself. And whereas Baelfire spent his life in physically following the hunt, Regina read and studied anything she could get her hands on dealing with the subject of Distress.

"All right now," Rumplestilskin said to Killian, who lay in the great fifth-level cage; "before we begin, I want you to answer me this: have you any complaints about your treatment thus far?"

"None whatever," Killian replied, and in truth he had none. Oh, he might have preferred being unchained a bit now and then, but if you were to be captive, you couldn't ask for more than he had been given. Henry's medical ministrations had been precise, and his shoulder was fine again; the food the old man brought had always been hot and nourishing, the wine and brandy wonderfully warming against the dankness of the underground cage.

"You feel fit, then?" Rumplestilskin went on.

"I assume my legs are a little stiff from being chained, but other than that, yes."

"Good. Then I promise you this as the gods themselves are my witness: answer the next question and we will set you free this night. But you must answer it honestly, fully, withholding nothing. If you lie, I will know. And then I'll loose the Countess on you."

"I have nothing to hide," Killian said with a smirk. "Ask away."

Baelfire stepped forward and leaned over the pirate. "Who hired you to kidnap the Princess? It was someone from King George's kingdom. We found fabric indicating as much on the Princess's horse, not to mention his dead body on the top of the mountain. Did the King hire you; and if he didn't, who did? Tell me and you are free. Speak."

"No one hired me," Killian said. "I was working strictly freelance. And I didn't kidnap her; I saved her from others who were doing that very thing."

"You seem a reasonable fellow, and my Princess claims to have known you many years, so I will give you, on her account, one last and final chance. Tell me or face torture."

"No one hired me, I swear."

Regina held out her red hand with her palm facing upward. A ball of fire appeared in her hand to which she used to set Killian's hands ablaze. Nothing permanent or disabling; just close enough to set things bubbling. When Killian had screamed "NO ONE – NO ONE – NO ONE – ON MY LIFE!" a sufficient number of times, the Countess waved her hand downward and a splash of water materialized above his hand, putting out the fire.

Regina turned to leave, and the two men followed her out of the underground entrance. She stopped when she made it to the old man, who was waiting patiently in the dark corner. "Father," she addressed as Henry looked up at her. "Tend to the prisoner." The trio left. "I feel quite invigorated," Regina said as she and the two men began to ascend the underground staircase. "It's a perfect question. He was telling the truth, clearly; we all know that."

Rumplestilskin nodded. The Countess was privy to all his innermost plans for the revenge war.

"I'm fascinated to see what happens," the Countess went on. "Which pain will be least endurable? The physical, or the mental anguish of having freedom offered if the truth is told, then telling it and being thought a liar."

"I think the physical," said the Prince.

"I think you're wrong," said Regina with a confident grin.

Actually, they were both wrong; Killian suffered not at all throughout. His screaming was totally a performance to please them; he had been practicing his defenses for a month now, and he was more than ready. The minute the Countess brought the fire ball close, Killian raised his eyes to the ceiling, dropped his eyelids over them, and in a state of deep and steady concentration, he took his brain away.

Emma was what he thought of. Her bright golden hair, her perfect skin, and he brought her very close beside him, and had her whisper in his ear throughout the burning: "I love you. I love you. I will find you again. Our love will concur any torture, any curse, anything that tries to separate us. Is your love for me as great as mine for you?" and she would smirk and her eyes would pierce their way into his as she looked over his face, "Can two such loves exist in one realm at one time? Is there that much room, beloved Killian?..."

Henry bandaged his fingers.

Killian lay still.

For the first time, the old man started things. Whispered: "You better tell them."

From Killian, a shrug.

"They never stop," he whispered. "Not once they start. My daughter in the company of Rumplestilskin is ruthless. Tell them what they want to know and have done with it."

Shrug.

"The Machine is nearly ready. They are testing it on animals now."

Shrug.

"It's for your own good I tell you these things."

"My own good? What good? They're going to kill me anyway."

The old man simply nodded.

* * *

Emma sat at the desk in the library as she worked on her letter to Killian. But as she sat and pondered, her mind went blank.

What should she say to her love? Her passion, her sweet, her only, her own. How should she construct such a document that would convince him to return to her after she pushed him away so cruelly?

She thought about maybe complimenting him. She would start by calling him wonderful. But he wasn't so much wonderful as he was perfect. Kind of flawless. More or less magnificent. Without blemish. Rather on the ideal side. But then she scratched that out when she reasoned that he would look through her attempt to perfume the subject with compliments and praises. It wasn't that he wasn't worth them; just that that wasn't how their relationship worked. It would take more than just a pretty coat of paint to fix the damage she'd done.

Her letter had to be meaningful; it had to reach into the very depths of her heart so that Killian could understand her pain and regret. So that he would know of her love – her unconditional love.

That's when she decided: a story.

That's what Emma had always done when she ran out of words in the stable, back when Killian's words were few. She would start with stories that she already knew; stories her parents used to read to her and then stories she read herself. Then, when she'd told all of those, she would begin to make some up. And Killian always listened. He would smile when she said something he liked, laugh when he was supposed to, gasp when she reached the climax, and applaud when she finished.

So she started her story. She wrote about a mermaid princess who fell in love with a pirate captain. The captain fell overboard one night during a rather dangerous storm, but the mermaid saved him. She swam him to a nearby shore where his crew would eventually find their way to him. But before they did, the mermaid and the pirate talked. She told him about her love for humanity and how she desperately wanted to see what it was like to walk among them. But those thoughts and desires were considered blasphemous among her kind. Mermaids weren't supposed to save humans as she had just done. They were sirens of the sea; using their enchanting songs to lure sailors to crash their ships or jump overboard only to drown beneath the shores. The pirate found her story tragic, and begged for the mermaid to go with him. Together they could find a way for them to be together. But the mermaid was a princess; she had a duty to her kingdom and her kind. If they found out about her love for the pirate, surely he would meet a cruel demise. So with a heavy heart, she left him alone on the beach until his crew came for him. But as time passed, the mermaid realized the great mistake she had made. So she searched and searched the seas; traveled from realm to realm looking for her pirate captain.

This is where Emma ended the story, along with a promise. A promise to never abandon him again. A promise that no matter what life decided to throw at them, they would face it together. A promise that if he returned to her, she would be his forever and completely. A promise that she wouldn't let a day go by without thinking of him. And a promise that if he did not answer her letter, then she would take it upon herself to scour the seas in her quest to find him, because she wouldn't allow him to give up so easily.

Killian was alive. Emma was alive. It was only logical for them to be together. She finished the letter by expressing her love, as if it hadn't already been explored. _Hope_, her mother's voice, _happy endings always start with hope._

* * *

And that night, in the fifth-level cage, the Prince asked, as he was to always ask, "Tell me the name of the man who hired you to kidnap the Princess and start a war, and I promise you immediate freedom."

And Killian replied, as he was always to reply, "No one, no one; I was alone."

And the Countess, who had spent the day thinking of creative ways to torture the prisoner began to take off her glove.

Killian closed his eyes and begged and pleaded and after an hour or so Rumplestilskin, Baelfire, and Regina left, the old man remaining behind with the chore of cleaning the area and tending to Killian.

On the way up the underground stairs to ground level, Rumplestilskin spoke up, "Much better, don't you think?"

Regina, oddly, said nothing.

Which was vaguely irritating to Baelfire because, to tell the absolute truth, torture was never all that high on his scale of passions. He would have rather had Regina or his father just dispose of Killian right away instead of having to endure watching him suffer.

What really bothered Baelfire was the way Emma talked about Killian. Especially after she gave him her letter to send. He politely asked her about it, then asked a little about him. He couldn't help but compare himself to her description. She had spoken highly of his skill in anything he set his mind to. He felt personally offended when she mentioned that he could outhunt him if he really wanted to. If only Emma could see that he, Baelfire, was the better man.

But she would not! She simply would not! All she ever talked about was Killian. And as the days had passed, all she ever asked about was news of Killian. It was amazing the time that went by, the days, the weeks, party after party, and all the Dark Kingdom was moved by the spectacle of their great hunting Prince at last so clearly and wonderfully in love. But when they were alone, all she ever said was, "I wonder where Killian could be? What could be taking him so long? Are you sure your fastest ships are truly your fastest?"

Maddening. Which honestly, made it that much easier to watch Killian be tortured. So each night, the Countess's discomforts, which made Killian writhe and twist, were really sort of all right. The Prince would manage an hour or so of spectating before he, his father, and Regina would leave. But Regina was still oddly silent.

And down below, tending the wounds, the old man would whisper: "Tell them. _Please_. They will only add to your suffering."

Killian could barely suppress his smile.

He had felt no pain, not once, none. He had closed his eyes and taken his brain away. That was the secret. If you could take your brain away from the present and send it to where it could contemplate skin like wintery cream; well, let them enjoy themselves.

His revenge time would come.

Killian was living now most of all for Emma. But there was no denying that there was one more thing he wanted too.

His time…

* * *

**"Dede42: The nightmare with the old woman booing has always scared me since I figured that the old woman was Buttercup old and filled with regret for turning her back on Weasly after their adventure in the Fire Swamp; up next, torture! Geronimo!" You know, I never thought about that! But now that you've said that, it does make a lot of sense! **

**"avasmom28681: This story is amazing! Great job!" Thank you! :) **

**"Maiqu: So you're following more along the lines of the book? Interesting... Dude my poor Killian" I am! It just gives a better template for more background and information that I prefer. And I regret to inform you that there will be a bit more angst in the future for our dear Killian. But he's tough! **

**"Lisa1972: this was good :)" Thank you! :) **

**"Anoymous136: Don't worry, it'll work out in the end. True love always wins!" You're starting to sound like Snow ;) which is a good thing! **

**"PearlandPrincess: I just found this story tonight and am so happy that I did. I grew up with this book and movie, they were my go to sick day movie with Legally Blonde. You have taken this classic story and done an amazing thing with it by infusing OUAT. I absolutely love the parallels between the Princess Bride characters and the characters from Once. My least favorite character was always Buttercup because I felt she was comparatively blah to the rest of the characters but your portrayal of Emma as her takes the best qualities of Buttercup, her love and loyalty, and combines them with Emma's fierce strength. I can't wait to read the rest of the story and I think so far Morganstern and Goldman would be proud." That's the highest compliment I could ever hope for! Your review has given me so many butterflies and has made me blush! I agree, I always thought Buttercup's character was always comparatively blah to the rest of the characters. And that's one of the major things that I wanted to separate between her and Emma. Because Emma is such a strong character and I'm so glad that the mix of these two has transferred enough for you to notice and comment! :) Thank you for your kind words and I'm so glad I'm doing your favorite story justice! **

**"trustpixiedust: I'm glad you love my reviews because here is another one. When you were talking about how there was going to be torture and death coming up all I could think was "Life is pain. And anyone who tells you differently is selling something." This gives me lots of feels. I just watched the winder finale and now I'm dying of feels. Not. Okay." I think the winter finale gave every member of the fandom feels; and especially killed the Captain Swan fans with those last couple of minutes! It'll be painful to have to wait 2-3 months for the season to start up again! **

**"Kari: Those nightmares were terrible! But another great update! How bout that mid-season finale! That was aewsome! Cant wait for the next update!" The mid-season finale was incredible! Especially the last couple of minutes where I completely lost it! **

**"Daizels: Amazing as usual!" Thank you! :) **

**"queenfrizz30: Great to see an update. I ain't wait to see what happens next." Sorry it's taken so long between updates! I wasn't expecting the holiday season to be so hectic! Hopefully after this week things will calm down some and I'll be able to work faster! **

**"Zerousy: Seriously, Baelfire has issues. I guess growing up with Rumple does that to a person but seriously? Did he have to put Killian in the zoo? I get the feeling Killian will definitely show Bae he's not easily killed!" I definitely don't think that Nealfire is this bad on the show - but I do honestly think that if he had been raised with Rumple as the Dark One, he would have some moral issues. Especially in this story! But yes, Killian will have to teach him some kind of lesson when he gets free! ;) **


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